The Prospect of Violence
He could only look on in morbid fascination as Potter set about the task of removing the Dark Mark. His hand was surprisingly steady as he cut into the flesh, and he only paused from time to time to wipe the weeping blood away.
Draco had been fed a myriad of potions so that he could endure what was happening to him, but it was clear that his godson was still uncomfortable.
Potter had insisted he remain awake during the process to inform him of any changes he felt within his magic, and the already pale Draco had become paler still.
“So, how were you planning on killing Dumbledore?”
The question silenced the room, and Potter continued on with his work with Draco aware that with just a single slip of the sharp blade he was using, he could bleed out in a matter of moments.
He looked towards Severus who shook his head.
“I-I was going to use the vanishing cabinet, the one the Weasleys shoved Montague into. The matching one is in Borgin and Burke’s.”
Potter paused, a deep frown marring his features.
“Well, it won’t be for long,” he murmured, once more cutting away at Draco’s arm.
Albus nodded his agreement, his expression having darkened considerably.
It was a severe security breach, one that would all but nullify the defence around the castle itself. No, it could not be left unchecked, and if the Dark Lord was to become aware of it.
The very thought elicited a grimace from Severus.
No, that could not be allowed to happen.
“Almost done,” Potter declared, and Severus administered another blood replenishing potion, breathing a sigh of relief as the boy stepped back, holding the offending cut of flesh up to inspect it.
“Well, he won’t know that it has been removed,” he mused aloud, cleaning it with a few waves of his wand before casting a preserving charm on it and placing it into a glowing vial.
“What are you doing with that, Potter?” Severus asked.
The boy shrugged in response.
“Maybe it will come in useful,” he replied, nodding thoughtfully to himself.
That wasn’t a good sign.
If Potter was right, the only thing he could hope to achieve with it was to draw some unwanted attention to himself by revealing exactly where he was.
Unless that was what he hoped to achieve, of course.
Severus shook his head at the thought as he tended to Draco’s wound, eyeing Potter as the boy watched him curiously.
“Can I see yours?”
He was taken aback by the question but rolled up his left sleeve to reveal the shame of his life.
Severus vividly remembered when he’d been marked, how proud he’d felt, and the disaster that followed his pledge to serve the Dark Lord Voldemort. Having the mark on display made him feel exposed, and served to remind him of his failings as a younger man.
Potter hummed thoughtfully as he inspected the mark.
“What is it?” Severus pressed.
“Well, if you want to be rid of yours, I might well have to completely flay you. I think that the longer the mark is on you, the more residual magic seeps into every part of your skin and not just around it. Malfoy’s is fresh, so it hasn’t had time to spread like yours.”
“Is it dangerous, Harry?” Dumbledore asked.
“No, it is no different in nature and intent, just more ingrained.”
“So, I could never remove it?”
“Not the way I did with Draco’s, and as I said, he would know if I did it the other way, which will likely be very painful for you as long as he is alive. When he is dead, I expect it will vanish by itself. It faded when he was weakened.”
Severus nodded, hopeful that he might see the day he no longer carried the mark.
It wasn’t likely.
His position as a go-between between the two warring factions meant that his life was always in the balance. If Potter were to fail and his subterfuge was discovered, the Dark lord would take no small amount of joy in ensuring his final moments were wracked with unimaginable agony.
Much, he had come to believe, would be the same if Potter were to learn of his part in what had befallen his parents.
No, Severus knew his chances of survival were slim at best, and truthfully he was surprised that he’d not already reaped what he’d sown in years gone by.
He winced in discomfort as another jolt of pain burst through his ribcage from where Potter had broken them during their latest duel. In only a matter of days, the boy had indeed had quite the breakthrough when it came to duelling, wielding his magic, and bringing it all together in a rather frightening combination of competence.
The boy was far from being the completed package, of course, but his progress these past months had been astounding. What remained to be seen, however, was how he would perform against those he was not familiar with.
Each of the Death Eaters he might find himself encountering presented a unique challenge, and given the nature in how they fought, it wasn’t as though he would be combatting them the same way he did with Severus.
There would be no controlled environment, no hesitation, and no restarting when a mistake was made. No, the Dark lord’s followers would show him no mercy, and Potter simply could not afford to make a mistake.
The battles ahead of him would not be like what the two of them had been delving into. They would be chaotic, unspeakably violent, and he would need to use those natural instincts along with the skill he had developed to survive them, especially when he inevitably found himself standing before the Dark Lord once again.
If only that was all that concerned him.
Already, things were afoot and had transpired that could change things.
Potter was proving to be much sharper than he or Albus had expected when it came to what Draco had been up to, and all but forced their hands to act.
Severus had warned Albus to handle the situation immediately, but the headmaster had not listened, and now, his godson was in a most unfavourable position. He no longer had the protection of the Dark Lord to rely upon, and soon enough, when Dumbledore succumbed to the curse in the coming weeks, he would be vulnerable.
The only saving graces for the boy was that the headmaster would be placing him and Narcissa into hiding, and that Potter had not seemingly figured out that he was responsible for what had happened to the Bell girl.
Had he known, he would not have assisted Draco in removing the mark, unless he did know and had other plans in seeing the boy face justice for what he’d done.
It was an unsettling thought he could not rid himself of, and Severus knew that the coming weeks and months would determine the future of Britain, and the next years more so as the war intensified.
He was under no illusion that the war would end quickly.
No, the Dark Lord was keen but not reckless, and without knowing the contents of the prophecy, would not push the unknown boundaries of it without clarity.
Dark days were indeed upon them, and they would only become darker still.
Of that, Severus Snape was left in no doubt.
(Break)
To Albus,
I must say that I found myself impressed with you during our meeting. Of course, I expected a certain brilliance from you given your NEWT results, but I did not expect to be meeting with such a humble young man as you proved to be.
Having considered working with you on the uses of dragon’s blood, I am writing to inform you that I would be delighted to be a part of your undertaking.
I will write again soon so that we may begin the arduous task ahead of us.
Yours, truly,
Nicholas Flamel
He had hoped that he had made a good impression, that he had shown Nicholas that he wanted nothing more from than man than his guidance in the field of Alchemy for the duration of his work.
Evidently, he had done just that, and though he was nervous about working with the man, Albus was nothing short of delighted.
“Are you not stopping for lunch?” his mother asked.
“No, I have to meet Gellert,” he replied, offering the woman and his sister a wave before taking his leave of the home.
Although it was still the summer break, Ariana had insisted their lessons together continue, and so they had. She was a curious and talented witch, still struggling with each passing day, but still making progress.
It warmed Albus to see her doing well, though thoughts of his sister inevitably led to thoughts of his wayward friend, and only more so as he came upon Gellert in the graveyard just a short distance away from the church.
This was where he had first met Harry, and it was to the very trio of monuments Gellert was standing before that he’d shown the boy where some of his ancestors were buried.
He watched as Gellert traced the odd symbol below the name of Ignotus Peverell, his gaze far away and longing.
“This was why I came here,” he murmured.
“To see the graveyard?” Albus asked confusedly.
Gellert shook his head.
“This symbol. I came across it during my third year at Durmstrang in a book on magical myths. The story spoke of three brothers who managed to trick Death itself, denying him their souls when they defied him. One brother chose a stone that raises the dead, the second, a cloak of true invisibility taken from Death’s own cloak, and the third chose a wand that was unbeatable. Death took a stick from a nearby elder tree and fashioned it for him.”
“The Tale of the Three Brothers,” Albus mused aloud. “My father used to tell it to us.”
Gellert smiled.
“Not just a story, Albus. I believe that it is real, well, I believe the Deathly Hallows are. The cloak and stone are shrouded in mystery, but the wand has cropped up several times over the past one thousand years, and it all began with the Peverells.”
Albus frowned before he scoffed.
“You think the Peverells are the three brothers from the story?”
Gellert nodded.
“I do, Albus. I know it might sound mad, but I have been looking into it for almost five years, and the only name I have consistently come across in other stories and rumours…”
“Is the Peverells.”
“The Peverells,” Gellert confirmed quietly. “The symbol is here as clear as day, the very same one I came across at Durmstrang. My aunt always said there was something magical about this place, and I felt it as soon as I arrived. It is strongest here, by the church, a magic I do not understand but I can feel it.”
Albus said nothing as he lost himself in his own thoughts.
Could the story be true?
Gellert certainly didn’t strike him to be caught up in flights of fancy, and he would not waste his time pursuing something he did not believe in wholeheartedly.
“If only there was a way to trace their lines,” Gellert spoke. “I imagine those that are of them are quite secretive about it. The reputation of the Peverells is not a good one. No, it won’t be known who descended from them.”
“One of them is still around.”
Gellert turned sharply towards him.
“There is a Peverell that yet lives?”
Albus nodded.
There was no use in trying to keep it from Gellert. He would learn about Harry as soon as he deigned to make enquiries pertaining to the family.
“He’s a friend of mine. He’s the one who has been helping Ariana.”
Gellert shook his head confusedly.
“The Peverells have been gone for almost as long as the rumours of the Hallows have existed, Albus.”
“That’s what everyone here believed too until a year ago.”
“A year ago?”
“Well, I met Harry two years ago in this very graveyard, but last year, your aunt met him. She didn’t believe he was a Peverell until he claimed the family home. When he did, that’s when the magic you can feel became so much stronger.”
“The Peverell home?” Gellert asked urgently.
“That one in the distance,” Albus explained, pointing to where the house could be seen.
“Do you think the Hallows…?”
“No one has been in except for Harry…where are you going?”
He hurriedly followed the other man, who did not break his pace as he all but sprinted towards the house, stopping only when he stood before the large iron gate.
“This Harry, he is your friend…”
“He is not in. He left a year ago.”
Gellert sagged disappointedly before removing his wand.
“No, don’t!”
Albus’s protest came too late. Gellert was sent careening backwards into a nearby hedge by a wave of icy magic, and as he managed to scramble free, his eyes widened, his trembling finger pointing towards the gate he had attempted to unlock.
Albus felt himself frozen in place as his gaze fell upon the ghostly cloaked figure that had appeared, unmoving but its invisible gaze was fixed on the two of them.
He shivered. Whether it was from the cold or fear that had gripped, he and Gellert both trembled before managing to find their feet and sprinting away.
They ran until their lungs were heaving and found themselves back close to the church where Gellert burst into a bout of laughter, wheezing from the exertion.
“Nice trick, Albus,” he snorted, patting him on the shoulder.
“I didn’t do that, Gellert.”
The other man stopped laughing immediately, his eyes drifting back towards the house sitting so benignly in the distance once more.
“You didn’t?”
Albus shook his head.
Until today, he’d never heard of the Deathly Hallows, nor did he think that Harry possessed such items, or did he? He was certainly secretive and mysterious enough.
“Death,” Gellert whispered pulling him from his musings. “Merlin, this Peverell you know, he might have the Hallows, or at least one of them. I must meet him!”
After what had happened at Harry’s home, Albus did not believe that would be a good idea, especially if Gellert inevitably began asking questions about things he shouldn’t.
Harry would not appreciate that, after all, and yet, the two of them meeting was almost unavoidable when Harry returned as he said he would.
“Even if he has them, or just one of them, it’s not as though he’s going to tell us, is it?”
Gellert frowned, his eyes becoming calculated before he smiled.
“Not strangers,” he agreed, “but if he is a friend of yours, I’m certain he will become a friend of mine. I have plans, Albus. So many plans for the world around us, and the Hallows could help see my vision come to life. I want to change it all, Albus, create a world where we can all leave in harmonious bliss, a lasting peace between magicals and muggles alike, just like it is here. Surely, you want that too.”
During his passionate speech, he had taken Albus by the hands, had spoken so sincerely as he looked him in the eyes whilst uttering every word. Albus believed him, and were such a thing possible, it was a world that he would wish to see for himself one day.
He nodded in response, and Gellert positively beamed at him.
“Then there are plans to make, Albus. So many plans.”
(Break)
“Now, before you attempt to apparate from the hoop you are standing in to the one opposite you, you must remember the three D’s,” Wilkie Twycross reiterated.
Harry focused on doing so, frowning as he turned and he felt himself pulled through an uncomfortably tight void, only to find himself exactly where he’d been before his attempt.
“Excellent, for a first attempt, Mr Potter, but you must be deliberate in your efforts. Without deliberation, you will not move. Oh, and do something about your crack, young man. It is offensively loud.”
Ron snickered from his right.
“Yeah, Harry, your crack is offensively loud.”
“And usually it is yours,” Harry returned.
Ron chuckled once more, grimacing as Lavender waved at him from across the other side of the Great Hall.
“Something wrong?” Harry asked amusedly.
“No, nothing like that,” Ron sighed. “I don’t know, I like Lavender but, you know, all we do is kiss, and…”
“Don’t finish that sentence,” Harry groaned. “Anyway, why’re you complaining, what else do you want? She’s not interested in Quidditch or chess, and if I remember, you hate Divination. What would you talk about?”
Ron shrugged.
“I don’t know, but there’s got to be more to it than just, well, you know. Mum and Dad don’t just kiss.”
“Not in front of you, but they’ve had seven kids,” Harry pointed out.
“Thanks for that, Harry,” Ron groaned. “Really, thanks. That’s exactly what I needed whilst I’m trying to apparate.”
Harry merely grinned before making another attempt himself, appearing in the hoop on the opposite side of the room, much to his relief. Of course, it would take considerable practice on his part to master it, but the very thought of ever finding himself on the Knight Bus again was more than enough motivation.
Still, he would not be able to obtain his licence until July when he reached his majority, so, perhaps there would be another journey or two he must endure without apparating.
“Excellent, Mr Potter, but your crack is still too loud.”
This time, there was no passing comment from Ron, who’s expression was scrunched in concentration, then surprise as he fell on his backside, scowling at Harry as he stifled a chuckle.
With the cloak in his possession, it wasn’t so difficult to sneak out of the castle when he needed to, and Harry’s prediction that there would indeed be more journey’s on The Knight Bus proved to be true as he’d found himself on it once more to bring him as close to Knockturn Alley as it could.
Already, he’d taken the precaution of using an ageing potion he’d stolen from Snape’s stores and adjusted his features so that he wouldn’t be recognised before coming here.
Borgin and Burke’s.
He remembered his first, unintentional venture here when he’d proved himself useless at using the floo network, and had to sneak out of the shop, only to be accosted by a hag of all things. Much to Harry’s relief, there were none of them here this evening, but the alley was certainly livelier in the later hours than it was during the day.
Paying no heed to the passers-by, he ensured his disguise was in place before entering the shop, his nose wrinkling at the smell of antique wood, books, and a tinge of something else he couldn’t identify.
With a thoughtful frown in place, he began perusing, breathing a sigh of relief as he caught sight of the vanishing cabinet Malfoy had intended to use.
Harry still wasn’t sure to what end.
He’d been focused on removing the mark from his arm, but as he thought back on his time with Snape, Dumbledore, and Draco, it was clear that the two professors were uncomfortable, and not because of the procedure.
No, they were nervous whenever Harry had asked Draco a question.
Still, he’d gotten what he needed from the situation, and if any other discretions came to light, he could always ensure Malfoy faced justice. It wasn’t as though Dumbledore would be around to protect him, after all.
“Is there anything you’re looking for?” a wheezy voice asked, pulling Harry from his thoughts.
He’d been looking at the various books on display, surprised Borgin would have some of them out in the open.
“I’m just looking for now. I collect interesting books and enchanted items mostly.”
“Ah, then you have come to the right place,” Borgin replied, rubbing his hands together. “I have an exceptional selection of books, as you can see, and some most curious trinkets. Take these for example. They look like any other pair of glasses you might come across, but these will show you any hidden weapons, wands, or poisons someone might be carrying. Very useful.”
“If you are unfortunate enough to have many enemies,” Harry chuckled.
“Yes, indeed,” Borgin acknowledged. “Well, how about this. It is old, and dated, but certainly a collectible. The enchantments are very clever. The craftsmanship is exceptional.”
He was gesturing to a chair that served as a toilet, and Harry quirked an eyebrow at him.
“No, no, that will not do,” Borgin backtracked, shuffling past to where a large display case was pushed against the wall.
Within it were dozens of trinkets, and Harry felt the many magicks of each washing over him, some much less pleasant than others.
“Now, these are not illegal to own, per say, but most are frowned upon by the aurors if you were to be caught with them. For the most part, they are cursed items, nothing so consequential, but unpleasant, nonetheless.”
Harry nodded as he inspected the items, reading some of the labels.
Most of the curses were indeed unpleasant, but no worse than those he traded with Snape each day during their duels.
“What about necklaces?” he asked curiously, thinking back to the one that Katie had been cursed with.
“Necklaces?”
“Or any other item of jewellery.”
Borgin frowned.
“Now you’re getting into things that may well be illegal, and very expensive,” he warned. “Of course, if the metals and stones are genuine. Not only are you paying for the enchantments, but also the materials. Only the wealthiest of people would purchase something like that, or have it made specifically for their purposes.”
“Why would someone want to own something like that?”
“Usually as a gift for an enemy, or even a spouse they wish to be rid of. There is a practice among some of the purebloods to give a cursed item to a husband or wife they are displeased with, and when the time is right, they need only activate the curse hidden within. Of course, I cannot speak for any that would do such a thing.”
Harry nodded his understanding.
The necklace Katie had been cursed by was certainly expensive. It had contained real opals and pearls and was made of gold. Of that he was certain, which meant it had been handed to her by someone completely clueless as to what they possessed, or another who would not miss such a valuable item.
“The little shit,” he whispered as he began putting the pieces together.
How he had not even considered until this moment, Harry didn’t know, but internally, he was chastising himself for his oversight.
Malfoy.
He’d been tasked with killing Dumbledore and had intended for Katie to gift him the necklace on his behalf. Of course, he would not suspect a seventh-year girl with an exemplary record, but that didn’t explain how it had come to her possession in the lady’s bathroom in the pub.
No, he was missing something, but every instinct was telling him that he was right.
“Excuse me?”
“Sorry, I just realised something,” Harry said dismissively. “Well, I am interested in a few of these, and a few books I saw on the shelf. What about this cabinet here? This seems interesting.”
“Oh, it is, but it would be a work in progress, I’m afraid. I do not possess its twin, but one skilled enough could be built to replace it.”
“That could be an interesting project,” Harry mused aloud, his demeanour belying his darker mood as he continued to ponder what he believed he had learned, and once more, he cursed himself for his laxity.
(Break)
“She could only stare at Severus in disbelief as he finished speaking. His expression was as grave as she had ever seen, and Narcissa knew that he was not trying to mislead her.
“He knows?”
“Despite what the Dark Lord says, Dumbledore is no fool, and worse yet, he had Potter help Draco remove his mark.”
“Potter? Wait, he can do that?”
Severus shook his head.
“In most circumstances, no. He says he only managed it because of how new the mark is. Potter is a parselmouth, so if there is anyone who understands the magic, it is him. He managed to remove Draco’s. Narcissa, you do not have much time. Potter was asking questions that he will not like the answer to when everything falls into place, and Draco will be in danger for what he has already done. You must pack your things and get to Hogwarts as quickly as possible. Dumbledore has promise to hide you both.”
“Lucius…”
“Cannot hide from him! The mark, it is something the Dark Lord can track at will. Draco is waiting but you must be quick. Potter will either hand him to the aurors or will kill him.”
She hurriedly finished packing all she could think of she would need for a life on the run with her son, ensuring she had the considerable sum of gold she’d been adding to since she’d learned of the Dark Lord’s return.
Narcissa would not allow her husband to squander her son’s future, not when he did not even have the Black family fortune to fall back on.
Carefully, she had been selling things, and having Lucius send for some gold for her regularly.
Fortunately, he never questioned why she wanted it, but Narcissa had barely spent a galleon for almost two years no in anticipation of the dark days ahead of her family.
With all of the trunks shrunk, she readied herself to depart, stilling as Bellatrix entered her bedroom.
“The Dark Lord is getting impatient,” her older sister almost taunted. “The end of the schoolyear will soon come, and if Draco doesn’t do what he has promised…”
She let the threat hang in the air, her eye alight with mirth at the thought of what the Dark Lord would do to her own nephew. The woman had always been quite deranged. Even when they were children, Bellatrix’s temper had been something to behold, and the older she became, her rationality dwindled.
That was before she’d spent more than a decade in Azkaban, and now, Narcissa doubted she had a shred of sanity left. Even her eyes were plagued with madness, and all she cared for was the man she’d chosen to serve.
“Draco knows what is at stake,” Narcissa whispered, her eyes flitting towards the clock. “He was reminded of it when he returned home for Christmas!”
She took a breath to calm herself.
Now was not the time to lose her composure, not when she needed to maintain it for another few moments whilst she made her escape.
Bellatrix’s grin made it difficult not to throttle the woman where she stood.
“He’s just like is father,” she snorted. “There is nothing of our family in him. He is the Lord Black, only because I killed Sirius.”
“And if you would’ve had children, it would be your son who has the lordship.”
Bellatrix grimaced at the thought.
“Don’t be disgusting, Cissy. I would not sully myself with my husband, but if the Dark Lord were to ask…”
She licked her lips demurely, and Narcissa felt her stomach turn.
She had seen the Dark Lord; his red eyes, waxy skin, serpent-like nose and skeletal features. He was more monster than man.
“What do you want, Bella? Have you just come here to mock me?”
“I was bored,” the woman replied with a grin. “Am I not allowed to spend time with my sister?”
Narcissa merely shook her head in response.
Bella did not want to spend time with her. No, she only wished to remind her that should Draco fail, it would reflect badly on all of them. She did not care for her nephew, only that he would shame the Dark Lord.
“You’re no fun,” Bellatrix pouted, her eyes lighting with excitement as she rolled up her sleeve. “The Dark Lord is summoning me! That means he is finally going to set me free.”
She all but skipped from the room, and Narcissa felt her heart sink into her stomach. She’d always known when Lucius had been out of the house on the Dark Lord’s orders.
He would return almost as gleeful as Bella was now, tired, and would drink himself into a content, drunken stupor.
Narcissa never questioned what he did. Doing so meant that she would become privy to the most unpleasant things imaginable, and so long as he left their son out of his habits, she would allow him his indulgences.
Because of his failings, Draco had been pulled into the Dark Lord’s schemes, and as she headed towards the fireplace in the adjoining room, she felt little guilt at leaving Lucius to his fate.
Draco was her priority now, and if there was even a semblance of a chance he might be spared, she would do all she could to see that he was granted it.
Still, the thought of the Dark Lord baying for her and her son’s blood did not rest easily with her, and she had not forgotten that Potter too would be following suit. Even so, first and foremost, she was a mother, and her son needed her to protect him from the monsters of the world.
(Break)
She held the crystal tightly. She always did whenever she felt as though she was becoming overwhelmed, or even when she simply missed Harry. It had been more than a year that had passed since he had left, but he had not done so without ensuring Ariana would be as well as she could be without him.
Still, she had moments like this when she struggled, when she tried to empty her mind each day only for the memories she was yet to confront to begin to plague her once more.
It was in these moments that she reached for the box Harry had gifted her, and she did so now, removing a sealed envelope. With a shaking hand, she opened it and removed the note within, immediately relaxing at the sight of his familiar scrawl.
Ariana,
Sometimes, turning on the light will not be enough, but when it isn’t, you must focus on not stepping back into the darkness. Focus on what light you have.
Harry
She released a deep breath as she frowned before turning her attention towards the light Harry had created for her, and using her wand, she began manipulating the colours, the brightness, and even how quickly the creatures leapt from within pausing as a small, green thestral emerged.
That was Harry’s thestral, just like his patronus.
It brought her enough comfort that she was no longer overwhelmed by her own thoughts.
Even though Harry wasn’t here as she wished, he was still here in all the ways it mattered. Besides, it wasn’t as though she was merely moping around and waiting for his return.
A day didn’t go by that she didn’t hope he might arrive, but Ariana was kept occupied by her schooling with her mother, and in all the months Harry had been absent, she had only missed two meals in the kitchen when she’d not been able to face them.
No, it wasn’t as easy as it would be if he was here, but somehow, thanks to Harry Peverell, she was able to cope much better than she ever had before with all that ailed her.
(Break)
Even as both Narcissa and Draco Malfoy left via the fireplace in his office to a temporary safehouse he had arranged, Albus questioned whether or not he had done the right thing.
Despite his position and lack of choice, Draco had almost been responsible for the death of a fellow student, a near miss with Horace being poisoned, and Albus had not even considered how the boy intended to use the vanishing cabinet into the castle.
He shook his head of his doubts.
No, although he was far from innocent, Draco deserved an opportunity to live outside of his father’s shadow, to be a better person than he’d been raised to be.
Still, not all would agree with him, and as Harry approached the office, Albus could feel the anger radiating from him.
Without the courtesy of knocking, the young man entered the office, shaking his after looking around.
“You’ve already let him go, haven’t you?”
“Mrs Malfoy collected him, and both have been sent to a location that they will be safe.”
Harry shook his head disapprovingly.
“He almost killed Katie. He shouldn’t be allowed to get away with it.”
Albus nodded and gestured for the young man to take a seat.
“Isn’t he being punished? I know it is not Azkaban, but Draco will now spend the rest of his life on the run from Tom, from his own father. Everything he has ever known, all of the protection of his name, being given everything he could ever want is gone. His freedom, all that means anything to him, is forfeit, and he will now live in fear of what he has done catching up to him.”
Harry shook his head once more.
“To you, that may be a punishment, and to Malfoy, but what about the justice Katie and her family deserve? Your moral take on this means nothing when Malfoy is getting away with it where it matters.”
“And how would you punish him, Harry?”
“Hand him to the aurors. That’s what he deserves!”
“Perhaps, but what if the Ministry of magic was to fall to Tom? We both know that is a distinct possibility. What would happen to Draco? What would happen to his mother if I didn’t intervene?”
Harry conceded the point with a nod.
“He should still be punished, when the time is right. If Katie had died…”
“But she didn’t. Believe me, Harry, I do not enjoy weighing up the moral conundrums I have been faced with over the years, but when you have someone’s life in your very hands, and you must choose whether to save them or not, those decisions can weigh heavily if you get them wrong. I hope that you never find yourself in that position.”
Harry frowned at him.
“You know, your bloody morals makes fighting this war hard.”
“And soon enough, I will not be around to be your voice of reason. It will be you making the decisions Harry, and unlike me, there will be little choice for you. You will be at the very centre of this war, and for you to live, Tom must die.”
“As will many others, and I’d rather it be them than any of us. I get that you are against killing but if I am not willing to do it, we will lose. Look how many people we’ve already lost, now and during the last war. I will miss you when you’re not here anymore, Professor, and I really mean that, but when you’re gone, I will not feel obligated to follow your lead. I will carve my own path towards Tom and cut through anyone in my way. It is the only way I will even have a chance.”
Albus opened his mouth to speak, but instead, he offered Harry an understanding smile.
He did understand that wars could not be fought without death and misery, and he could not deny that he had done all he could to avoid that in every conflict he’d been unwittingly involved in, but Albus was not cut from the same cloth as Harry.
He was no warrior, no fighter, and he was hardly a passable general.
He had los too many who’d looked to him to lead them because of his own decisions and the actions of their enemies.
No, this should never have been the life for him, but it had been thrust upon him, nonetheless.
Before he could voice his thoughts, however, and even begin to discuss anything else he wished to, they were interrupted by the arrival of a silvery lynx, which spoke in the voice of Kingsley Shacklebolt.
“There is as an attack being reported in the centre of Oldham. Moody is gathering the aurors.”
Harry immediately stood and held up a hand before Albus could protest.
“Soon enough, you won’t be here to answer the call, and it will be me that does it. I should get used to it now whilst you’re still here, Professor.”
Albus wish he had an argument to offer, some more wisdom, but above all else, more time to continue guiding the young man before. That, however, was what he was short of, and reluctantly, he nodded.
“You are right, Harry,” he said sadly. “I would feel all the better if you were to join me.”
He merely nodded in response and drew his wand in anticipation, and Albus did not miss the flash of excitement in his eyes that had always been absent from his own at the prospect of violence.