All For You - Chapter 42
Chapter 42
“Minister Laurent!” the blonde greeted him enthusiastically. “Thank you for seeing me.”
Sebastien stood and extended his hand, offering the Malfoy heir his best political smile.
“Lucius,” he replied fondly. “Of course! Your father is a good friend of mine. How is he? I’m afraid it has been a few years since I last saw him. It was at your New Year get-together, I believe.”
“It was,” Lucius confirmed. “He is as well as ever.”
“I am pleased to hear it,” Sebastien returned with a nod. “I always have time for your father and you, of course.”
“It is most appreciated,” Lucius said gratefully, taking the seat Sebastien gestured to. “It has been some time. I was just a boy of thirteen.”
“And you have grown into a fine young man, just like your father when I first met him. Now, what can I do for you?”
Sebastien truly couldn’t care less what Abraxas’ offspring wanted, but it was always beneficial to keep his finger on the pulse of what was happening in the neighbouring countries, and Great Britain was going through an interesting time, to say the least.
“Well, I have recently graduated,” Lucius explained. “One day, although not so soon, I hope, I will succeed my father. He has urged me to familiarise myself with those he holds in high esteem who will look to me for assistance and those who may assist me.”
“Your father always has been a clever man,” Sebastien praised. “I am honoured that I am so highly valued.”
Lucius nodded.
“If only doing so in Britain was easier,” he sighed. “Given current events, establishing contacts has not been easy.”
“No?” Sebastien asked, feigning curiosity.
“Have you heard of the Dark Lord, Minister?”
Sebastien frowned as he nodded.
“He has been mentioned in passing,” he confirmed. “You have my apologies, Lucius, I cannot say I am all too familiar with what is happening.”
“It’s not so important,” the young man assured him. “I expect it will resolve itself soon enough. There was a mention of one man who has confused matters. I understand that you were in your position during Grindelwald’s uprising and may have heard of him. The Serpent.”
Sebastien hummed thoughtfully.
“Ah, yes, the name is known to us,” he confirmed. “I cannot say I know much, but I believe that a dossier of sorts was put together by our security department. Of course, he was an ally of ours. Wait, I think I am due to review the file. It has been more than twenty years,” he added, making a show of rifling through a stack of files on his desk.
He didn’t miss the subtle glint of triumph in Malfoy’s eyes, and Sebastien chuckled internally before releasing a deep sigh.
“Here it is,” he declared with a shake of his head. “I’m afraid access to it is highly restricted.”
“I understand, Minister,” Lucius replied somewhat disappointedly. “It was merely to satisfy my curiosity about quite an interesting figure.”
“Oh, he was rather interesting,” Sebastien replied, discreetly tapping the underneath of his desk with his wand three times. “They were strange times. Who is it?”
As expected, his assistant entered.
“A quick word, Minister, if you don’t mind. In private,” he added.
“Of course,” Sebastien permitted as he stood, ensuring the file was within easy reach of the blonde. “Will it take long?”
“Two minutes, Minister.”
Sebastien nodded and offered Lucius a look of apology.
“I’m sorry, Lucius. Can you wait for a moment?”
Malfoy nodded eagerly, and Sebastien grinned to himself as he left the office.
“Is it wise to leave him in there?”
“That is exactly why I summoned you,” Sebastien snorted. “Not a word of this to Delacour, understood?”
His assistant nodded, and Sebastien waited for enough time to pass before returning to his office.
“Again, you have my apologies, Lucius,” he offered, noticing the file was not exactly where he’d left it. “Tell me, you just graduated from Hogwarts. Does that mean you were under the tutelage of one Harry Jameson?”
“I was,” Lucius answered with a frown. “I cannot say I liked him much, but I will not deny his competence. He’s the best professor we had by far.”
Sebastien hummed interestedly.
Perhaps getting information about the man would be easier than he expected.
Lucius would certainly be willing to talk, especially since Sebastien had done him quite the favour.
Although he’d not admitted it, his silence on the matter had spoken volumes of which side of the conflict he supported, and if Sebastien could exploit that, it could prove to be rather beneficial with his own efforts.
(Break)
“Hello, Bellatrix,” her Great Aunt greeted her, smiling brightly as she took in her appearance. “My, haven’t you grown.”
Bellatrix returned the gesture and allowed herself to be swept in a tight embrace by the woman.
She’d not seen Cassiopeia in around eight years, not since her and her grandfather had quite the falling out at a Christmas dinner when Bellatrix had been only a girl.
“I’ve just graduated Hogwarts,” Bellatrix said proudly, “and I’m going to be doing a Mastery in Defence Against the Dark Arts.”
“Well, that is quite something,” Cassiopeia said proudly. “Very few people get such an opportunity. You should be very proud of yourself.”
“I am,” Bellatrix replied. “What are you doing in Britain?”
“Oh, I just missed the place,” Cassiopeia said dismissively. “I thought it would be nice to see my nieces again. I have written to Andromeda and Narcissa to meet with me.”
Bellatrix nodded.
Narcissa had shown her the identical letter she’d received, though her reunion was for the following day.
“Have you seen grandfather?”
Cassiopeia deflated.
“Briefly, but Arcturus doesn’t seem to have much time for me anymore,” she said sadly. “I suppose we haven’t ever really been close.”
Bellatrix knew why.
Cassiopeia had sided with Grindelwald during the war and her grandfather the ICW. It had made things between them rather strained in the years after the war, and any time they did find themselves together, they would inevitably have a falling out.
It had become something of a family tradition, though not one to be celebrated.
“Anyway, that’s enough about me,” Cassiopeia said dismissively. “What about you? Any marriage prospects?”
Bellatrix shook her head.
“No, and there won’t be until after my apprenticeship is finished. Professor Jameson was very firm that my focus should be on my education.”
“Jameson?”
“He is the man who is going to be supervising my Mastery,” Bellatrix explained. “He’s amazing at what he does. I wouldn’t want to get on the wrong side of him. Even grandfather is wary of him, and father was almost killed.”
“Your father?”
Bellatrix nodded.
“When Riddle first came around, father sided with him, and they tried to attack Harry’s restaurant. Father is lucky to be alive, but Jameson killed thirteen others.”
“That is quite impressive,” Cassiopeia replied thoughtfully.
“And he fought Riddle!” Bellatrix said excitedly. “Riddle ran away.”
Cassiopeia nodded.
“Your father is no longer on Riddle’s side?”
Bellatrix shook her head.
“No, grandfather has forbidden it,” she explained. “He said that none of us are to follow a half-blood who is trying to stir up trouble. He’s already made enough enemies and it won’t be long before he’s defeated. My galleons are on Harry to beat him.”
Cassiopeia chuckled.
“Well, you do seem rather fond of this man,” she commented.
Bellatrix nodded enthusiastically.
“He’s wonderful,” she declared. “You’d probably really like him. He’s not like the other teachers we’ve had, and he’s not afraid to use all kinds of magic. He’s an expert.”
“Then maybe I will get the opportunity,” Cassiopeia mused aloud. I’d certainly be interested in meeting someone who has impressed you so much. It used to be me who impressed you.”
“You still do,” Bellatrix assured her, “but you’ve not really been around. Professor Jameson has taught me so much, and I’m looking forward to my time with him.”
Cassiopeia offered her an apologetic smile.
“You’re right,” she sighed. “I’ve been absent from your lives for far too long. That will change from now, I promise. You know, I have really missed being here, and seeing all of you.”
Bellatrix smiled at the woman.
She’d always liked her Aunt Cassie, even if she had made some poor decisions in the past, but things were not the same now, and she was pleased to reconnect with the most fascinating woman she’d ever met.
(Break)
“How did the two of you meet?”
Harry chuckled, his eyes alight with amusement as he gestured for the blushing young lady to tell the story.
Charlus wouldn’t profess to know either of them so well, but what had become quickly clear to him was just how fond of one another Harry and Amelia were.
The former was still guarded, but he was more relaxed and happier with the woman in his presence, and it reminded Charlus of his marriage to Dorea.
Throughout the years, she had been his peace away from the chaos his life could be, and the Lord Potter would not be without her.
“He took out the entire bar?” Dorea asked in disbelief.
“In less than a minute,” Amelia explained proudly. “I thought he was a smug git, but it turns out that I just made a stupid mistake.”
“Oh, so you admit it now?” Harry asked.
“Not to you, Jameson,” Amelia replied.
The man shook his head, and Charlus chuckled at their antics.
They were well-suited.
Amelia’s career as an Auror was not an easy one, and most pureblood families would not tolerate it if she were to be married to one of their sons.
Harry, however, was clearly proud of the work she did, and Amelia was equally so.
His reputation certainly preceded him.
Harry was a quietly confident person and carried himself much like many of the tougher men Charlus had met on the continent. He’d undoubtedly experienced hardship, and he’d thrived because of it.
Still, Charlus could not ignore that there was something so familiar about the man, and the more he watched him, he could see it in his mannerisms and even the way he spoke.
“Can I say, I can’t help but think we may have met before,” he commented. “Before the Wizengamot, here, and at Grimmauld Place.”
Harry nodded before taking a sip of his water.
“I had expected this would come up at some point,” he sighed. “I apologise for not mentioning it, but it seemed rather redundant given the previous circumstances we found ourselves in.”
“Mention what?” Charlus asked, a slight frown marring his features.
“Well, I suppose people have noticed it,” Harry continued. “I did when we first met. There is something of a likeness between us.”
Charlus nodded, pleased he didn’t have to press the issue to the point of discomfort.
“Do you know why that is?”
“I do,” Harry answered. “We have common ancestors, but I am reluctant to mention them unless your lady wife is aware of your family history.”
Charlus felt oddly apprehensive at the query, but he couldn’t deny he was exceedingly curious about what Harry had to say.
“There are no secrets between us,” he assured the man.
“Peverell,” Harry said simply. “We are both related to the Peverells.”
Charlus cleared his throat as James looked at him confusedly.
Although he’d expected it, he’d not been prepared to hear the name fall from Harry’s mouth so readily.
“How did you become aware of my family connection?” he asked.
“Research,” Harry answered almost apologetically. “I was looking into my own family lineage when I came across it. Don’t worry; I have not mentioned anything pertaining to it to anyone, and I destroyed the only copies of what I discovered. The family trees are incomplete, but I found some things in my parent’s belongings. One of your ancestors married Iolanthe Peverell, and my mother came from a bastard line, eventually losing their magic some generations later.”
“Well, I suppose that explains it,” Charlus murmured. “You know, there are those who would be very interested in that information.”
“I do,” Harry said knowingly. “That is why I guard it as closely as it should be. Even Amelia didn’t know until just now.”
The woman was looking at Harry with her mouth agape, and Charlus chuckled.
Dorea had a similar reaction to the revelation, though Charlus idly wondered if Harry possibly possessed one of the trinkets like his cloak.
He didn’t know, but he wasn’t going to pry further, not when doing so would draw the discussion to the seemingly fabled trinkets the Peverells had possessed.
No, Charlus was satisfied with the explanation he’d received, and it certainly put to rest any concerns he had.
He was ashamed to admit that he thought perhaps his father may have wandered when he’d been at war. Knowing the man’s character, he wouldn’t have, and Charlus should’ve known better.
The explanation Harry offered was much more likely, and with the knowledge the man had, there was no reason to doubt him.
“Is something wrong?” he asked as the man suddenly appeared unsettled.
“I’m not sure,” Harry murmured. “It seems as though someone is attempting to breach my protections.”
“Would you like me to assist you?”
Harry shook his head and offered him a smile.
“No, it’s quite alright. They won’t get very far with them, but I’d best check,” he sighed. “Thank you for the invitation. We’d both love for the three of you to join us. I will forward an invitation in the coming days.”
“We would be delighted,” Dorea replied, her expression becoming one of concern as Harry drew his wand.
“Do you mind if I use my portkey?” the man asked.
“Not at all.”
With that, Harry and Amelia vanished, and Charlus turned towards his wife.
“He seems worried.”
“He does,” Charlus agreed. “Do you think it could be Riddle?”
Charlus shrugged.
“If it is, I expect the man is in for quite the surprise. Jameson is not someone to be taken lightly. I’m sure James here will find that out for himself when he gets to Hogwarts.”
The boy grinned mischievously, and Charlus shook his head.
James was convinced he would find a way to pull one of his pranks on the man, but Charlus wasn’t convinced.
Still, his son would have to find out the hard way that some people were beyond the capability of his jokes, and Charlus was quite looking to see James get his comeuppance.
It would be amusing to see someone finally get the better of him.
(Break)
“It’s not here!”
“Shut up, you damned idiot. We do not want to be caught.”
The other man snorted.
“There’s six of us.”
“And when was the last time you were sent on a job like this with five other people to back you up?” the second man asked. “This isn’t a normal job. Whoever it is we’ve been ordered to kill is dangerous.”
The first man snorted.
“I’m fucking dangerous,” he declared smugly.
The second man shook his head.
Now was not the time for cockiness or being lax.
He’d completed countless of these ventures throughout the past two decades, but never had he had so many others with him.
No, this target was exceedingly dangerous, and given how well he’d hidden himself in the English countryside with barely a trace, he would not take kindly to their presence.
“I’m telling you, it isn’t here,” the first man huffed irritably.
“It’s here,” one of the others broke in. “I can sense something, but I can’t quite find it. Wait.”
She reached into the bag slung over her shoulder and removed something that looked to be nothing but an ordinary stone. Placing it on the ground in front of her, she held up a hand.
“What is it doing?” the second man demanded.
“It is locating the core of the protections,” she explained.
“Won’t that disturb them?”
“Maybe, but we don’t have much of a choice,” she muttered as she nodded towards the stone.
It began changing from one colour to the next, and the second consulted the map they’d been provided. They were indeed standing where it indicated, and as he looked towards the stone once more, it was glowing a gentle pink colour.
Suddenly, it turned red and the woman threw herself to the ground.
The bolt of magic that was hurled towards her collided with the unsuspecting man behind, and he screamed in agony.
The second man could only look on as his companion writhed in agony and began clawing at his chest.
Only a split second later, a loud snapping sounded and it erupted in a gout of blood, bone, and sinew.
“MOVE!” the woman shouted.
The second man ducked just in time to avoid the same fate, though more and more bolts of magic came from every direction.
“Abort!” he commanded, wincing as two others fell victim to the protections, though the outcome was much different than the first.
One of the men simply burst into flames, and though he tried to douse it with a stream of water, the fire only grew hotter and brighter until the smell of scorched flesh filled the air.
The second was dismembered, his torso thudding to the ground as his limbs were torn away by an unseen force.
In a moment that left him feeling nauseous and fearful, the head of his comrade landed in front of the second man as he scrambled to his feet, devoid of the mask they’d all been instructed to wear.
Black robes and a white mask.
It was an odd request, but seeing as it would not impact the outcome, they’d readily complied, especially for the sheer fortune they’d be paid for the job.
Now, the second man understood the generosity.
This was all but a suicide mission, and already, they’d lost half of the team.
“ABORT!” he repeated, his heart sinking into his chest as he realised his portkey wasn’t working.
The other two quickly realised this too, and as the spells continued to careen towards them, there was only one thing left they could do.
“RUN!” the woman shouted.
The man didn’t need telling twice, and he did so, his legs carrying him away from the chaos as quickly as humanly possible.
He didn’t know how long he ran for or how far, but the moment the spells stopped following them, he tried his portkey once more and almost cried in relief as he was thrown into the void, away from the unexpected danger he’d found himself in.
He didn’t know who the target was, but he had no interest in pursuing them further, not when they had such vicious and dangerous magic at their disposal.
Only a fool would attempt such a thing again, and he was far from being such.
(Break)
“Are you sure someone is here?” Amelia whispered as they peered out of the kitchen window.
With a flick of his wand, Harry nodded a moment later.
“They were,” he murmured.
It was a concerning development but one he’d prepared for.
Nonetheless, whoever had managed to find his location must’ve gone to great lengths to do so. Harry had not registered his property with the Ministry of Magic, and the only other avenue would have been for those looking for him to work their way through dozens of estate agents to find the one he’d purchased it through.
That alone was discomforting.
“Were?”
“They’re gone now,” Harry explained. “Well, three out of the six managed to escape.”
“And the others?”
“Dead,” he answered callously. “Serves the bastards right. If they would’ve made it in, they would’ve killed us both.”
Amelia nodded her understanding, and her grip tightened around her wand.
“Shouldn’t we check it out?”
“We should,” Harry agreed, leading them from the kitchen and into the grounds.
Were it not for the knowledge of what had transpired, none would be the wiser to it. The evening was as calm as any other summer evening, but Harry could smell the stench of death in the air.
“Ah, and here is the first victim,” he declared, lighting his wand to get a better look. “Oh, that couldn’t have been nice.”
There was a gaping hole in the man’s chest, but it wasn’t the wound that caught Harry’s attention.
“These were Riddle’s people,” Amelia gasped.
Harry frowned and shook his head as he inspected the whist mask. It would be a passable Death Eater mask from a distance, but up close, it was a poor attempt.
Whoever had arranged this attempt had not seen one close enough to create an accurate replica and perhaps had only seen them in The Daily Prophet.
“No, they just wanted me to think they were,” Harry replied, removing the mask.
The face beneath was not familiar to him, and the next person they came to had been burned beyond recognition. The third had been scattered around haphazardly, and again when the mask was removed, Harry could not profess to know the man.
“Well, they have nothing to identify them.”
“Other than their wands,” Harry corrected. “I’ll soon find out who they were.”
“Shouldn’t we send for the Aurors?”
Harry shook his head.
“It wouldn’t do any good,” he sighed. “They’re foreigners, and I’d rather keep this quiet for now whilst I look into it.”
Amelia nodded.
“Is this because you looked into what happened to my parents?”
“I expect so,” Harry answered, “and I expect they will try again. Not that it will do them much good. By tomorrow, there’s not a single person who will make it in here without my permission. I’m going to need some of your blood.”
“You’re going to create blood protections?”
“I am,” Harry confirmed. “I avoided it until now, but since someone has found the place once, they will again. I’d like them to understand that they should not fuck with me.”
With that, he drew his own wand across his palm, cutting deeply enough to draw the required amount of blood.
Amelia followed suit after only a moment of hesitation, and Harry set to work.
Strictly speaking, what he was doing was quite illegal, but he didn’t care.
When it came to protecting Amelia and his home, there wasn’t anything Harry wouldn’t do, and those who were trying to harm them would learn that soon enough if another attempt was made.
The repercussions would make what happened tonight appear to be a quick and painless death, and the suffering would not be something they could rid themselves of.
War had officially been declared.
Everything Harry had done thus far had been clandestine, but now, he was more than willing to step out of the shadows if necessary and bring the fight to those who’d dared encroach upon his home.
(Break)
“What the hell happened?”
“The protections! You didn’t tell us it was a suicide mission.”
“It’s one man! How could you fail to kill one man?”
“Whoever this man is, he is not like anything you’ve sent us after before. I’ve never encountered anything like those protections.”
Sebastien Laurent shook his head.
The team he’d sent in had been some of his very best, and he’d even doubled the number to ensure their success.
Harry Jameson.
It had been all but impossible to find anything pertaining to the man, and for the first time since the Serpent had plagued the continent, he felt uneasy.
“There must be a way of getting to him,” he mused aloud.
“Well, if there is, you can find someone else with a death wish to do it. I’m not interested, not for all the gold in your coffers.”
The man left, slamming the door behind him, and Sebastien cursed under his breath.
“Coward,” he muttered, pondering how best to eliminate Harry Jameson.
The man was getting too close for comfort, and were they to be exposed, he and his companions would find themselves at war with the entire ICW.
Perhaps they could win such a confrontation, but it was not something Sebastien wished to risk.
They operated in the shadows for a reason and had done so successfully for more than twenty years.
If he didn’t act quickly, all of their work would come undone, and that was something Sebastien Laurent couldn’t allow.
“Patience,” the feminine voice urged. “He cannot escape our grasp for long.”
“I know,” Sebastien muttered as he continued pondering what to do next. “I know.”
(Break)
With the summer holiday soon to come to an end, Garrick Ollivander was finally able to relax after a busy couple of months. Each day, his shop had been inundated with prospective first years coming to be fitted for a wand, and among them, the parents who wished to have theirs checked and maintained at the same time.
Garrick didn't know why they didn’t come until the summer, but it certainly put a considerable sum of gold into his account.
“Ah, what can I…”
Garrick broke off as he realised who it was that had entered his shop the moment he’d opened for the day.
He’d heard of the man and had even seen his photo in The Daily Prophet from time to time, but he’d not had the pleasure of meeting him, not even to be fitted for a wand when he’d been a boy.
“Mr Ollivander,” Harry Jameson greeted him politely, though his expression was rather dark. “I was hoping you would be able to assist me with something of the utmost importance.”
“If it is a wand you need, then of course, I can help you.”
Jameson offered him a fond smile as he shook his head.
“No, my wand is in perfect working order,” he replied. “I was hoping you could point me in the direction of the origins of these.”
Garrick frowned at the three wands placed on his counter.
Immediately, he knew they were not his, but he was taken aback by the distinctive design and patterns on the wands.
With just a simple glance at the handle of each, there was no denying what he’d thought.
“Where did you get these, Mr Jameson?” he asked as he inspected them.
“My home was intruded upon last night,” the man answered. “Three managed to escape, and three didn’t.”
Garrick nodded his understanding.
Harry Jameson had cultivated quite the reputation for himself, and the wandmaker could not fathom who would be so foolish, but given the wands he’d been presented with, he wasn’t truly surprised.
With a flick of his wand, he locked the door to the shop and closed the blinds before shaking his head gravely.
“The creator of these wands is concerning,” he murmured. “Tell me, what do you know of the Grindelwald years, Mr Jameson?”
“Most of the ins and outs,” Jameson answered. “Nothing pertaining to wands., however.”
Garrick hummed thoughtfully.
“These are wands of the finest quality,” he informed the man. “Custom created for the owners and made with only the very best components. Only one person creates wands like these, but she has not been seen for more than two decades.”
“So, they’re old wands?”
Garrick shook his head.
“No, they are much newer than should be possible,” he sighed. “It only makes me believe that the rumours about her were true.”
“About whom?”
“Her name is Manon Dubois,” Garrick explained, speaking only as loudly as necessary. “She was a fine wandmaker from Paris, and she vanished during the attack on the city in 1941. It was believed that she was dead, but some witnesses say they saw her leaving quite willingly with some of Grindelwald’s men. It was never substantiated because those witnesses were killed.”
“Why does that not surprise me?” Jameson grumbled.
“Indeed. Nothing has been heard of her since, but these wands all but confirm what many have suspected. It has been more than twenty years since she vanished, and none of these wands predate her disappearance.”
“She made them afterwards,” Jameson mused aloud, evidently putting the pieces of whatever puzzle he was compiling together.
“Undoubtedly,” Garrick confirmed. “It makes me wonder, Mr Jameson, if she has been alive all this time, why has she hidden?”
“Because she couldn’t return to her shop without raising suspicion,” Jameson answered. “Or she is still aligned with the side she chose during the war.”
Garrick hummed.
Jameson evidently knew more than he did, and the wandmaker did not wish for any further information.
Knowledge was power, but it was also a very dangerous thing to possess.
“Thank you, Mr Ollivander,” Jameson said appreciatively. “Of course, I was never here and this conversation didn’t happen.”
Before Garrick could say word, the man vanished, and did so without disturbing his protections.
It had been an odd experience meeting him, though not as odd as the topic of discussion.
Manon Dubois was not a name that had crossed his mind for some time, and though he did not wish to ponder the matter more than he had, Garrick could not deny that his curiosity had been piqued.
He’d always believed there was something amiss about his colleague’s disappearance, and now it seemed that it did indeed go deeper than he’d wanted to admit was possible.
Dubois had been a traitor, and it appeared that her past, and seemingly present, was going to catch up to her.
(Break)
“You don’t seem as worried as I expected you to be, Nicholas,” Harry commented.
The alchemist offered him a reassuring smile.
“You’ve never let me down, Harry. I trust your judgement.”
Harry nodded, and the two of them continued to wait for their guest to arrive.
He did so only a moment later, and his expression was rather troubled.
“Has something happened?” Harry asked.
The other Harry drew his wand and cast a few of his own charms to ensure his privacy before speaking.
“They found my home last night,” he explained. “Six of them. Three escaped, and three were killed.”
“Am I to assume that your home is quite secure?” Nicholas asked, his gaze flitting between the two of them.
“Well, it’s quite the miracle they even found the place,” the other Harry sighed. “Even knowing the location isn’t enough. One of them must be excellent with protections to even detect a trace of what I have.”
“Now you understand the calibre of people you are dealing with,” Harry muttered. “I came close to putting an end to them, and they found a way to turn the tables. Nothing is off limits to them.”
“I know, but I am still several steps ahead,” the other Harry declared. “I know who sent them, and I am going to handle it. You must be Nicholas Flamel.”
Nicholas nodded and offered his hand, which was accepted without hesitation.
“I must say, in the many years I have lived, I’ve not experienced a phenomenon like this,” he mused, gesturing between the Harrys. “The magic at play here is as dangerous as it is incredible, but I can sense the differences in you, so I am not concerned that the universe will suddenly implode.”
“Did you think that was possible?” Harry chuckled. “Eleanor did, and I thought she was joking.”
“There must be balance in everything, Harry,” Nicholas said gravely. “I suspect fate had other ideas for you, and when her will was disrupted, she created another path that this young man now finds himself on. Do not underestimate the powers we are yet to understand.”
“It is foolish to do so,” the other Harry said warningly. “I didn’t believe in the prophecy until everything fell into place, and then I was here, doing fate’s work again.”
Harry nodded his agreement.
“I was taken out of the equation, and someone had to fill my shoes. Do you think we came from the same timeline or separate ones?”
“That is a complicated question we can have no certainty of answering,” Nicholas murmured, “but if I were to hazard a guess, I would say the latter. Your circumstances were similar, if not completely the same, until a pivotal moment, and from there, I suspect the following series of events caused you to deviate. There could be dozens of iterations of you, just not here in this world.”
“Thinking about that just gives me a headache,” Harry snorted amusedly.
“Then don’t,” the other harr urged. “We are here, and we have shit to do. I know your hands are tied for the most part, but mine aren’t. I intend on finishing Voldemort and destroying whatever the hell else it is I’ve stumbled into. I will deal with Riddle first at the earliest opportunity and then the others, starting with Laurent.”
“The French Minister?” Nicholas asked.
The other Harry nodded.
“I have no doubt that he is a big part of this and that it was he who sent those people to my house. I do not take kindly to attempts made on my life, and they will see that soon enough for themselves.”
There was silence for a moment before Nicolas chuckled.
“You may have your differences, but you are also very similar,” he declared almost proudly. “The question is, young man, how do you intend on getting to Laurent?”
“Oh, I have my ways,” the other Harry said darkly. “So far, I’ve needed to be cautious, but that has changed since they made their intentions abundantly clear. They tried to kill me and Amelia, last night, and I will return the favour, no matter what it takes. The only difference is that I will be successful, and they feel finally reap what they have sown.”
Nicholas felt the cold energy radiating from the man, and he believed every word that fell from his lips, just the way he had his own Harry for all these years.
“And I will do all I can to assist you,” the alchemist declared. “Where do we begin?”
Harry was taken aback by Nicholas’s willingness to help, but then he remembered all they had been through since they met more than two decades prior.
Madame Bellerose had introduced him to the Flamels when he was a boy, and he had come to see them the way a child would see a parent.
Perenelle and Nicholas had looked after him, had clothed and fed him out of the goodness of their hearts, and had never let him feel like anything less than their own son.
Nicholas may have been offering the other Harry his assistance, but he was doing so for him, and he couldn’t be more grateful.
(Break)
He tapped impatiently on the arm of the chair as he mulled over the contents of the file Lucius had secured from the French Minister. He’d done well to obtain it, but it had done little to assuage the Dark Lord’s concerns.
Although most considered the Serpent to be a myth, he was indeed real, and Lord Voldemort had the confirmation in black and white.
What concerned him most wasn’t the man’s seeming aptitude for doing what most would consider the impossible, it was the origins of the Serpent.
Even in the file, it was noted that he proved himself to be a parselmouth, and the Dark Lord found himself thinking of little else.
Evidently, somehow, the two of them were kin.
Had his grandfather fathered another child outside of his marriage, or was it possible that his now-deceased uncle had done so without anyone becoming aware of it?
Lord Voldemort could find no certain explanation, but he was determined to ensure none doubted his legitimacy as the heir of Slytherin.
Despite the risk, he knew he had to kill the Serpent, but how?
He’d been present in Diagon Alley, but he’d not been seen nor heard from in more than twenty years.
With that in mind, he knew there was only one option.
He would have to find a way to lure the man out of hiding, to force a confrontation between them.
Then, and only then, there would be no way his position and superiority could be doubted.
“Avery, we have work to do,” he murmured.
The other man nodded his understanding.
“The Serpent or Jameson?” he asked.
“Both,” the Dark Lord answered. “We must kill them both.”