All For You - Chapter 36

Chapter 36

It wasn’t often he met his muggle counterpart, and only usually did so when he introduced himself to them upon their succession of an election campaign.

This evening was different, however, and marked the first time the Minister of Magic was to discuss a matter of national security with the Prime Minister.

Nobby Leach had met three others during his tenure, and Mr Wilson only the previous year for the first time.

He’d been shocked and alarmed at discovering an entire community of witches and wizards living amongst his own people, but a few calming charms and a brief conversation later, Nobby had left, having assured Harold that it was deeply unlikely he would see him again.

Oh, how he’d been wrong only a number of months later, and Harold Wilson was not pleased to see him.

“So, let me get this straight, you have a madman with a group of followers setting fire to villages, and now you tell me this berk is responsible for what happened in Stratford?”

Nobby nodded.

“We are doing all we can to apprehend this man.”

Wilson shook his head.

“Eighteen people lost their lives, and dozens of others remain injured in the hospital,” he snapped. “I suppose their lack of recollection is the work of your lot?”

“It is.”

It had taken days for the Obliviators and the team from the Magical Catastrophes Department to modify the memories of the witnesses, members of the emergency services, and journalists who had arrived. The damage caused by Riddle and his followers had been credited to an unexploded bomb dating back to the second war, and all photos taken having been removed from their possession.

It had been an arduous task, but one which had been necessary.

Wilson shook his head once more.

“Unacceptable,” he said sternly. “I will not have the men and women of Britain subjected to the whims and cruelty of another madman! Even now, we grieve for our losses from the last two wars, and now you tell me that one of yours wishes us harm. I want this fixed, Leach. Her Majesty will not stand for it, and nor will I. This Riddle is to be found immediately and dealt with or I shall be discussing the matter with those who’s business it is to handle such affairs. Are we clear?”

Nobby was taken aback by the gumption with which Wilson spoke, and he was far from cautious or fearful, but resolute and strong in the face of adversity.

Nonetheless, his blustering would lead to nothing.

“My good man, I do wish you would not make idle threats,” Nobby sighed. “I would sooner have your cooperation on this than to see us at odds. I have my very best men working on it. I assure you; we want him found even more than you.”

Wilson narrowed his eyes at him before nodding.

“I want to be kept in the loop on this, Leach. If the people are in danger, I wish to know. Goodnight.”

His dismissal was firm and abrupt, and Wilson turned away.

With a shake of his head, Nobby drew his wand and aimed it at the back of his counterpart.

“Sorry, old chap,” he murmured. “Obliviate!”

Taking a few moments to remove the memory of the conversation they’d shared, Leach placed the Prime Minister in the chair behind his desk.

He would remember nothing, and though the Minister of Magic had been sincere, given the reaction he’d received, he knew he could not be too careful.

He could not risk Wilson discussing the matter with any other and creating further problems between to the two governments.

No, it was better this way, and though he doubted the conflict in his own world would be solved without another incident, he hoped to see it concluded before irreparable damage was done.

(Break)

Amelia looked on in fascination as the atrium had begun to fill with would-be recruits for the Auror department, until the queue stretched from the makeshift welcome desk all the way to the fireplaces where men and women continued to arrive.

Smith and Grimm had not hesitated in putting the additional gold to use and were intent on having a recruitment drive to bolster their numbers as quickly as possible.

“Have you ever seen anything like it?” Imelda asked.

Amelia shook her head.

“We may get twenty or thirty a year, but never tis many.”

“I have,” Alastor interjected darkly. “The last time we recruited like this was when we went to war with Grindelwald.”

“This isn’t a war,” Imelda replied confusedly.

Alastor snorted.

“Aye, they might not have said as much, but we are at war,” he declared. “It’s just that this time, it is on our own doorstep. Mark my words, lass, things are going to get uglier before they get prettier. With what has happened, people will have to pick sides now. There is no sitting on the fence. He broke the Statute of Secrecy. There is no going back from that, and people will want their pound of flesh for it.”

With that, his gaze trailed down the line of potential recruits before he shook his head and took his leave, followed by Shacklebolt.

“Surely he’s being paranoid.”

“I don’t think so,” Amelia replied with a frown. “He’s right. After what happened in London, it changes things. It might not be a war like our parents went through, but it is turning into one.”

“Well, that’s just great,” Imelda huffed. “What do we do?”

“Whatever we can to put an end to it,” Amelia answered uncertainly.

She’d never fought in a war, but that was inevitable now with all that had happened.

Alastor was right.

Riddle had crossed a line, and his followers would only double down on what they had done.

Things would get much worse before they got better, and the only way that would happen was when one side could no longer continue what had been a rather subdued battle until now.

“Come on, we’d best get to the alley.”

“Knockturn?”

“Diagon.”

“Ah, an easier day for us then.”

Amelia shook her head.

“I don’t think we will be seeing any easy days for some time yet,” she predicted.

“You’re probably right,” Imelda agreed.

What had happened in London was unprecedented in recent history, and although they had managed to mitigate the fallout of the incident, it certainly wouldn’t be the last.

Having learned of it, Leach had called an emergency meeting of the Wizengamot, and according to Edgar, a number of people have left it unhappy.

He couldn’t discuss in detail what had happened, but Edgar seemed to be rather disturbed by the entire incident.

He’d mentioned that some of the Lords and Ladies had not felt it was such a catastrophic incident and had voted against implementing legislation to ensure it wouldn’t happen again.

What Amelia deduced was that there were those who had drawn their lines, and though they had not openly declared their support for Tom Riddle, they didn’t need to.

It was clear to any who did not wish to bury their heads in the sand.

“I told you,” Amelia sighed as they arrived in Diagon Alley.

The mood was tense.

Where people would usually stop to converse with one another, they simply passed by their acquaintances, either because they did not wish to be part of the conflict or they did not truly trust those they associated with.

What Riddle had done with his actions had caused a widespread bout of caution, perhaps paranoia.

“Do you really think it will get worse?”

“It’s inevitable,” Amelia murmured.

(Break)

“Miss Black, a word before you leave,” Harry requested as he dismissed his seventh-year class.

The girl looked at him curiously as she approached, and Harry finished marking the last of his fifth-year assignments before placing the quill on his desk.

“Is something wrong, Professor?” Bellatrix asked.

“Not as such,” Harry replied. “I wanted to ask what you intend on doing when you have finished school?”

The girl frowned before shrugging.

“I’ve not really decided,” she answered. “I’ve thought about maybe joining the duelling circuit, but I expect my father will try and marry me off as soon as he can.”

Harry hummed disapprovingly.

He knew what Cygnus Black intended to do with his daughter, and he could not, in good conscience, allow it to happen.

“What if I was to offer you an apprenticeship?”

“An apprenticeship?”

“To obtain a mastery in Defence Against the Dark Arts.”

Her eyes widened in surprise.

“What’s the catch?” she asked cautiously.

“Hard work,” Harry answered with an amused grin. “The apprenticeship will last for a minimum of three years, and you will be expected to teach here at the school whilst completing your assignments. Be warned, it is not easy, and it would not usually be a paid position, but I will see to it that you have a more than adequate salary. You will also be provided with your own private quarters here for the duration.”

“Are you serious?”

“I am,” Harry confirmed.

Bellatrix frowned once more.

“Why are you offering me this?”

“Because you have earned it,” Harry replied sincerely. “You are a very talented witch, and it would be a shame for your potential not to be met. Of course, I expect an ‘Outstanding’ from you in my subject and in Transfiguration, Charms, and Potions. I have spoken to the other professors, and all three assure me that you are more than capable of achieving it.”

“I don’t know what to say,” Bellatrix said thoughtfully.

“Think about it,” Harry urged. “Really think about it. This could open many doors to you.”

Bellatrix nodded and swallowed deeply.

“I don’t think my father will allow it.”

“What about your grandfather? Is he not the Head of your family?”

Bellatrix’s eyes widened in realisation.

“He is,” she murmured. “That’s a very Slytherin move, Professor.”

“What makes you think I wouldn’t have been one?”

Bellatrix shrugged.

“I don’t know. I don’t think any Slytherin would confront Riddle the way you did.”

Harry chuckled as he shook his head.

“The houses we are placed in do not define us, and we change as we get older,” he explained. With your wit and intelligence, you could pass for a Ravenclaw, and I expect that there is a sense of loyalty in there, too.”

There was, even if the girl didn’t know it yet.

“Why don’t I write to your grandfather, and we can sit down and discuss it with him?” Harry suggested. “You can then make your decision on whether you wish to accept the offer.”

Bellatrix nodded and appeared to be in a daze as she gathered up her belongings and headed towards the door.

“Thank you, Professor,” she said appreciatively.

“You’re welcome,” Harry replied.

Taking the girl on as an apprentice served him in more ways than one.

Yes, it would help keep her out of the clutches of the Dark Lord, but it would also free up some of the time he spent teaching the younger students at the school.

Already, Bellatrix was more than capable of doing so, and Harry could use that additional time to focus on what truly required his attention.

He could think of little else other than the conversation he’d had with Grindelwald. Despite the man’s violent past, it was perhaps the most useful conversation he’d had when it came to solving the murders of Amelia’s parents, even if Harry now knew that what he was facing could prove to be insurmountable.

Still, he was not willing to give up, and judging by what the former Dark Lord had told him, he couldn’t, even if he wanted to.

If Grindelwald was right, Harry was already a target, and he refused to be such, not after everything he had endured throughout his life.

To him, this alliance of nations was just another thing he would have to overcome, but before he could do that, he needed to eliminate Tom Riddle from the equation.

He released a deep breath of frustration as he pondered the man.

It was strange to think of him as more an inconvenience than this shadowy, mysterious figure he had feared for much of his life, but having overcome Riddle once before, Harry was certain he could do it again with the several advantages he had over the man.

Not that he took the threat he faced lightly.

Tom Riddle was still a highly dangerous man and one that could not simply be dismissed.

Being overconfident would only get him killed, but Harry was eager to see an end to the Dark Lord sooner rather than later

For that to become a reality, he needed to find Tom, and he was proving to be as elusive as ever.

He was hiding and likely still recovering from the effects of the curse Harry had placed upon him.

It would prevent the man from feeling his best for a few weeks, but it would not keep him at bay indefinitely, and Tom would want to make a statement when he was able to show his supposed superiority.

Still, that hadn’t stopped Harry from checking his usual haunts.

He wasn’t at the residence of his muggle family in Little Hangelton. Just to be certain, however, Harry had placed a few subtle charms that would alert him if anyone magical arrived within half a mile of the house.

There had been no sign of him at what remained of the Gaunt home, either, and he had not hidden the ring there yet.

That was the one aspect of dealing with Voldemort that concerned Harry.

He didn’t know when Tom had hidden his Horcruxes or which ones even existed.

The diary certainly did, and with Lucius on the cusp of finishing his education, it was unlikely in the possession of the young man.

He’d already destroyed the diadem, and he knew that Hufflepuff’s cup and Slytherin’s locket were out there somewhere. As for Nagini, Harry wasn’t sure whether or not the snake was with him or if she’d been gifted a fragment of Tom’s soul.

Until he saw her for himself, he would work under the assumption that she wasn’t.

Of course, the piece inside him no longer existed, and he’d certainly not attacked another, younger version of himself and wouldn’t be given the opportunity to.

That left only the locket and ring, and Harry had not investigated the cave, but intended on doing so soon enough.

Shaking his head, he chuckled humourlessly.

It was strange to think that he’d survived the first time around with the odds stacked against him so much when he’d been so ill-prepared.

The fact that he still breathed was nothing short of a miracle.

Perhaps he’d simply been lucky because it certainly wasn’t his skill that had decided the outcome of his final confrontation with Tom.

This time, however, he was determined that he would not rely on luck or even fate.

He would kill Tom Riddle through his own means, and Harry did not doubt that he would take just as much pleasure in doing so as he had so many years prior, even if the elation only lasted a brief moment.

Killing Lord Voldemort was now at the top of his list of priorities, and when it was done, he could truly focus on the threat hanging over him by an entity he knew next to nothing about.

Of course, he wouldn’t be idle.

He’d already begun cross-referencing the names of those in each serving government in question with those who’d been in office during the war against Grindelwald.

With discretion being key, it was no easy task, but Harry would find a way, and finally, he might get to the bottom of what was going on in the magical world that so few seemed to be aware of.

Until then, he had a letter to write to Arcturus Black, and though he wouldn’t profess to like the man, he was hopeful that Lord Black would see the sense of allowing Bellatrix to accept the position.

It truly would be a life-changing undertaking for the girl, for the better.

Or so Harry hoped.

(Break)

The Dark Lord smiled as he picked up the worn copy of The Daily Prophet and admired the work of his followers for the umpteenth time. The Ministry may have managed to ensure the muggles were none the wise to what had happened, but wizarding Britain knew exactly what had occurred in London.

His Dark Mark had flown above the capital brightly for all within a hundred or so miles to see.

It was a sight to behold, as ominous as it was beautiful.

“Leach made some idle threats, but he’s all talk,” Avery snorted. “He doesn’t have the guts to fight us the way he will need to. He can recruit all the Aurors he wants, but they have no power to do anything.”

Voldemort nodded.

“I think we will continue in the same vain,” he decided. Why risk our own lives when it is not necessary? The Aurors have already proven to be incompetent at dealing with such tactics.”

“I think that is wise, my lord,” Avery agreed. “Let us keep them looking foolish time and again. More will come to our side, even if it is because they learn that any resistance they offer is futile.”

“See that it is done, Avery,” the Dark Lord instructed. “I will be well enough to join you soon.”

“What are you going to do about Jameson?” Avery asked. “He is dangerous, more so than Dumbledore. He will not hesitate to kill us.”

“How can he kill what he cannot see?” Voldemort returned amusedly. “He will be dealt with in time, but for now, let us see him suffer the indignity of failure for a while. What say you?”

Avery looked uneasy for a moment before nodding.

“I would rather he was dealt with sooner rather than later, but I put my faith in your good hands.”

“Worry not, Avery. Jameson is only one man. His death must have meaning. When Britain sees their hero’s broken body in a heap for all to see in the middle of Diagon Alley, they will fall to their knees in droves. Now, I must rest. I’m not quite better yet.”

Avery nodded and left the room, and the Dark Lord released a laboured breath.

The curse continued to take its toll on him, and he knew he’d been fortunate to escape with his life.

Idly, his thoughts wandered to his Horcruxes.

Hiding them had been the initial plan, but with such a close encounter with death, he knew it would be more useful to pass one or two on to those he trusted for safekeeping.

Should the worst happen, which was unthinkable, at the very least, he would have his most precious objects primed and ready to serve their purpose.

Despite not wishing to lose the body he currently possessed, he could only imagine the response to his rising from the dead.

The expressions of his foes would be priceless.

Still, as much as it would cement his legacy, the Dark Lord had no intention of ever having need of his Horcruxes.

They were his assurance against the most unlikely of events, and he intended on living forever safe in the knowledge that he could not truly be killed.

(Break)

“He got to Broz.”

The quill he was holding to write his correspondence paused, and the ink bled into the parchment, spoiling the letter and soaking through to his desk.

“How? His medical file is held under the strictest of measures, and the home is all but impossible to find without help.”

“Maybe he had help.”

“No, the only people who could help him are in that home and me,” the man muttered. It is the reason I had it built. Broz was to be kept away from anyone who might ask questions, not that he could tell anyone anything.”

“You are certain?”

The man nodded.

“The vow he gave would…”

He paused and shook his head.

“No, he couldn’t say anything of any worth, but he is now a loose end we can do without. Kill him.”

“As you wish, but what of Jameson? Him getting to Broz is concerning.”

“What have you learned about the man?”

“Nothing.”

“Nothing?”

“There is nothing to learn. His record in the Ministry does not even state where he was schooled, only the grades he obtained. He owns his restaurant, which is managed by another, and teaches at Hogwarts.”

“What of his home?”

“Unplottable.”

The man hummed as he leaned back in his chair.

“I do not like it,” he murmured. “Men do not just appear out of thin air, and certainly not ones as capable as him. He must be an asset.”

“For whom?”

“An Unspeakable?”

“Maybe, maybe not.”

“A Hit-Wizard?”

“It is possible, but you know as well as I that after what happened the last time…”

The man waved off his associate.

“I know,” he muttered irritably.

“Do we strike?”

“When?” the man snapped exasperatedly. “At Hogwarts, he has Dumbledore, and he is seldom seen in public. We must find his home.”

“Do you think it wise to attempt it in his domain? If it is unplottable, who knows what nasty surprises he has lying in wait? You saw what happened to Riddle when he attempted to attack the restaurant. Thirteen men. Jameson killed thirteen men.”

“Weaklings and the scum of society,” the man said dismissively. “Our own are the very best. Find him and kill him. He’s getting too close for comfort. I don’t care how it is done, eliminate him!”

The other man nodded.

“It will be done.”

He left, and the man returned to his letter, cursing under his breath that he would have to start it again from scratch.

“You can’t hide, Jameson. There is nowhere you are safe.”

(Break)

To Lord Arcturus Black,

I am writing to you in the hopes that you will accept an invitation to speak with me tomorrow night at 7 pm pertaining to your granddaughter, Bellatrix.

If this is not convenient for you, please relay a message with a day and time that is suitable.

It is of the utmost importance.

Regards,

Professor Harry Jameson

That was the letter he had received, and given that it appeared to be urgent, Arcturus had accepted the invitation, though he hoped Jameson did not intend on berating Bellatrix for something she had done.

As the Head of her family, that was Arcturus’s job.

Not knowing what to expect, he’d prepared himself for a heated discussion in which he would defend the girl, no matter what she had done, and as he stalked his way through the corridors of the castle, he was ready to do just that.

Entering the Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom, he was taken aback by the sight of the usually reserved Bellatrix talking animatedly with Jameson about what appeared to be an assignment the man was reading through.

For the first time in the few instances he’d seen him, Jameson cut a casual figure, wearing a shirt with the sleeves rolled up and sporting a smile.

“Ah, Lord Black, thank you for joining us,” he greeted Arcturus. “Please, have a seat.”

Arcturus continued to frown as he lowered himself into the indicated chair and was joined by his now-subdued granddaughter.

“I apologise for the vagueness of my note, but I did not wish to put anything I wish to discuss in writing as I feel this is a conversation to have in person,” Jameson explained as he sat on the edge of his desk. “I thought it best to write to you as whatever happens next will ultimately be your decision.”

Arcturus eyed the man curiously before nodding.

“Is the girl in trouble?” he asked.

Jameson shook his head.

“Nothing of the sort. On the contrary, I have been very impressed with her work since I began teaching her, and with her formal education coming to an end soon, I wish to discuss the possibility of taking her on as an apprentice. I broached the subject with Bellatrix before writing to you, and she rightly pointed out that it was not a decision she could make without your input.”

Arcturus nodded appreciatively at the consideration, and he was certainly surprised by the reason he’d been brought here.

“An apprenticeship?” he asked. “In all my years, I can only think of Minerva McGonagall being offered such a position under Dumbledore.”

“It doesn’t happen often, not unless someone believes they have someone under their tutelage who will be able to cope and thrive with what is expected of them. I have explained to Bellatrix what my expectations of her would be.”

“What are those expectations?”

“The apprenticeship will last for a duration of three years minimum, and during that time, she will be expected to teach, complete assignments set for her, and achieve an ‘Outstanding’ in her NEWTs for Charms, Transfiguration, Potions, and of course, Defence Against the Dark Arts. In return, she will be personally tutored by me in every aspect of the subject, be given her own private quarters within the castle, and a generous salary as compensation. All of this has already been approved by Dumbledore.”

Arcturus nodded thoughtfully.

It was a most generous offer and an opportunity Bellatrix would not be presented with again.

Cygnus would not like it.

He intended to discuss the prospect of marrying the girl off to one of the Lestranges, something Arcturus had his reservations about, given what was happening in Britain and his suspicions that Corvus was directly involved.

“Is this what you want, Bellatrix?” he asked.

The girl nodded eagerly and was unable to prevent herself from smiling at the prospect.

“Very much, grandfather.”

“Then I see no reason for you not to accept the position,” Arcturus declared. “I will handle your father.”

The girl sprung out of her seat and almost strangled him with how tightly wrapped her arms around his neck and elicited a rare, public chuckle of affection from Arcturus.

“Go on, you return to your dormitory,” he instructed. “I wish to discuss a few details with Jameson.”

The girl frowned but did gather her things before leaving, and Arcturus turned towards the man.

There really was something so strikingly familiar about him, but he could not put his finger on it.

“I do hope you do not have another angle by offering her this position,” he warned. “You saw what it means to her.”

Jameson held his hands up placatingly.

“I know what it means to her, and I made the offer purely because she deserves the opportunity,” he assured Arcturus. “I understand your customs and that she would be married off as soon as she left the castle. I think Bellatrix is worth more than that, and her talent would be squandered if it is not nurtured. She is an exceptional young woman, Lord Black, and one you should be proud of.”

His words seemed sincere, and Arcturus detected no ulterior motive from the man.

Nodding, he stood and offered his hand, which was accepted.

“Then I will see to it that she is allowed to complete the apprenticeship, under one condition of my own.”

“Name it.”

“When the school year has concluded, you will join my family for dinner so that you may assuage any concerns that they have,” Arcturus requested. “This is something out of the norm for us, and there will be questions from most.”

“Will Walburga be there?”

Arcturus nodded.

“I will insist upon her presence,” he replied amusedly.

Jameson chuckled as he nodded.

“You need only name the time and place, and I will be there.”

“I look forward to it, Jameson” Arcturus replied. “You’re a braver man than most, I will give you that.”

With that, Arcturus left, pondering the conversation he’d just shared and how he was going to break the news to Cygnus that Bellatrix was not on the market for any marriage he may have in the works.

(Break)

In the days since he had taken Harry to visit Gellert, Albus had been pondering what the two could possibly have discussed that had left Harry so pensive upon them leaving Nurmengard.

The man had not even been truly surprised that Tom had turned his attention towards the muggle world, and having arrived at the scene, the headmaster had been quite taken aback by what lengths the Dark Lord’s followers had gone to.

Not that Minister Leach had helped the situation.

He’d given little more than a stern warning that such acts would not be tolerated, and it had been obvious to the Lords and Ladies which of their supposed comrades had been involved.

Corvus Lestrange had barely been able to contain his smile when the Minister had informed the room of the damage done and the deaths and injuries caused during the attack.

Albus could only shake his head.

Tom’s campaign had taken a rather sinister turn when he’d attempted to torch Hogsmeade, but attacking the muggles so openly was foolish and dangerous for all their kind.

Although he’d been distracted by whatever he and Gellert had discussed, Harry’s fury at what had happened was undeniable. Try as he might, Albus could not deny that the seeds of another wizarding war had been sown.

Some two hundred of Tom’s followers had taken part in the attack, and his former student was well on his way to having a fighting force to compete with the Aurors.

Perhaps he could convince the ICW to intervene.

He intended to raise it with his colleagues, and in the spirit of preventing another all-out war on the continent, he suggested that they may be amenable to offering Great Britain the assistance it may require in combatting Tom and his followers.

(Break)

It was only the second time he’d come to the ICW headquarters without being summoned and he had sent a message ahead to Ghost informing him of his arrival.

With it being so late in the evening, the halls were empty, but as he knocked on the door to the office belonging to his superior, he was bid to enter.

Ghost was poring over a mountain of paperwork and gestured for Harry to take a seat.

“It’s days like this that I miss my time in the field,” the man sighed.

“How long did you serve?”

“Twenty-four years,” Ghost answered proudly. “I worked with some of the greatest witches and wizards of our age and had to pick up the pieces after all but me and Fox were killed.”

“By Grindelwald?”

Ghost nodded.

“I saw him arrive here with my own eyes in his attempt to kill me,” he explained.

Harry nodded, though having spoken to the Dark Lord, he wasn’t convinced Grindelwald had entirely been behind the idea, not after what he’d learned.

“Anyway, what can I do for you, Jameson?”

Harry removed the sheet of parchment from within his robes and slid it towards the man.

It was a list of the names he had been creating, though it was not quite finished yet.

There were others he was looking into, but Harry knew he would need help.

“Many of these people are prolific and very popular in their countries,” Ghost pointed out. “Are they suspects?”

Harry nodded.

“Until I can rule them out.”

Ghost frowned as he continued perusing the list before releasing a deep sigh.

“Investigating them could be dangerous.”

“I know, that is why I need some help.”

Ghost rubbed his eyes.

“If any of these are involved, you truly are up against it,” he warned. “It could have a domino effect on not only the ICW, but each of these countries these men and women represent.”

“I know,” Harry assured the man, “but this is bigger than I first thought. It isn’t just about the murder, but so much more.”

Ghost scrutinised him for a moment before nodding.

“I may know a few people who are trustworthy I can put you in touch with,” he replied after a moment. “Are you sure about this, Jameson?”

“I’m in too deep to walk away now.”

“Then you might just need all the help you can get,” Ghost said thoughtfully as he began writing on a piece of blank parchment. “You did not get these names from me.”

Harry pocketed it and stood to leave, offering the man an appreciative nod.

“I am grateful,” he replied sincerely.

“We will see how grateful,” Ghost chuckled. “Once this paperwork is complete, I may have some things for you to do over the summer. Of course, I will try not to take up too much of your time.”

“I will help in any way I can.”

With the conversation over, Harry took his leave of the office and building before activating his portkey.

He was tired and overly cautious about the state of what had become known to him in recent days, and he suspected it would only get worse before he even saw the light at the end of the tunnel of corruption and murder he’d entered.

(Break)

Entering the sanctity of his home, he stripped himself of his cloak and entered the kitchen to find his wife pacing frantically.

Upon seeing him, she threw her arms around his neck and placed a searing kiss on his lips.

“What did you find?” she asked worriedly.

“More than I expected,” the man answered, his brow furrowed in concern. “Broz is dead. They arrived and killed him just after I finished.”

“Dead?” the woman gasped. “You saw who did it?”

The man nodded darkly.

“It is a problem, but not as big as what I learned.”

“What is it?”

“He’s getting closer,” the man sighed. “He found Broz and learned enough to know where to look, but it gets more troubling.”

“More troubling?”

The man said nothing as he took a seat at the kitchen table, pondering what he’d witnessed after entering Broz’s mind.

He’d known the man had been in the home built for the sole purpose of keeping him there until died. He’d kept tabs on those he considered enemies and had gone to the trouble of adding his own charms into the construction to keep an eye on who he considered to be the weak link.

What he had learned this evening, however, was not something he would’ve fathomed before doing so, but having seen it for himself, he could not deny the truth.

“What is it?” his wife pressed worriedly.

He offered her as best a comforting smile as he could.

More than twenty years ago, he had walked away from it all to have her back in his arms, and even now, he did not regret the decision he’d made.

His Eleanor had been there for him through everything, and her life was worth more to him than anything else.

The world could burn for all he cared, so long as his Eleanor was safe.

“See for yourself,” he urged, removing a silvery strand from his temple as he summoned his pensieve.

Placing the memory into the stone bowl, he gestured for her to witness the same thing he had in Broz’s mind.

She did so and exited a few moments later, pale and shaken by what she had seen.

“It can’t be,” she whispered.

“What else can it be?” he asked.

“I-I don’t know, but… Harry, he looked just like you when you were his age.”

He chuckled humourlessly as he nodded.

“It’s worse than that. He is me,” he said with a frown. “It seems as though The Serpent has been given a new life.”

Eleanor was dumbfounded, and she said nothing for several moments.

“What are you going to do?” she asked worriedly.

Harry’s frown deepened as he looked out of the window.

“I don’t know,” he answered honestly. “I just don’t know.”