A Sanctuary
What Kreacher had informed him was a farm turned out not to be entirely true. There were barns scattered along the expanse of overgrown land, and even a few houses, but there was no sign that there had ever been any livestock raised here.
No, what Harry did find as he took a tour of one of several properties the Blacks owned across the country was hundreds of discarded cauldrons, vials, and tonnes of ingredients that had been left to rot.
Along with this was an incredible stash of brews that would keep St Mungo’s running for several months had they not spoiled, well, that would be so if the potions were not a suspect batch of what Harry suspected to be both questionable and outright illegal concoctions.
“Farm, my arse,” he snorted amusedly.
It was nothing short of an illicit factory, one he could only imagine had turned quite the tidy profit for the family when it was functional, which was more than a century ago.
Whether the ministry had shut it down, or something else had befallen those involved, Harry didn’t know, but it had evidently come to a stop rather suddenly.
Whatever had happened here would remain a mystery, and now, the land would be repurposed as something of a haven for the aurors who’d come to his aid when he’d needed it.
He owed them and their families that much at least.
“It will do nicely, Kreacher,” he declared. “They’ll need to put some work in, but it will be liveable enough,” he added with a wince.
Although the injuries he’d sustained were minor, they would linger for a few days yet. As ever, Tullius had looked after Harry, and had pieced him back together quickly enough.
Still, that had been only the beginning of what was to come.
The aurors who had no family to fetch had managed to put most of the damage to Grimmauld Place and the surrounding area right, but it would forever bear the scars of the battle, which had left all but three of the residents dead.
One of them had been a man away for business, and the other two an elderly couple who’d sequestered themselves in their basement thinking that they were being bombed.
The rest didn’t bear thinking about, but there were dozens of them who’d stood no chance of surviving what had unfolded in the quiet corner of London.
Fortunately, only a handful of aurors had lost their lives, and among the debris, several Death Eaters and Umbridge’s followers had been found. Tonks had briefly explained what had happened at the ministry leading to the arrival of the aurors, and Harry could not help but think he hadn’t heard the last of them.
Even so, it appeared the aurors were willing to fight as they would need to when confronting Riddle’s forces, which was another victory in itself.
Although there didn’t appear to be any of the more prominent Death Eaters among those found, it was Harry and the aurors who’d gotten the better of the exchange; something that was sorely needed given the damage done by the Dark Lord in recent weeks.
“Master Harry…”
“I know, Kreacher, I’m going to get them now. Do we have food?”
The elf nodded.
“Lots of food, and Kreacher will get potions too.”
“Thank you, Kreacher,” Harry said tiredly.
He’d barely had a moment to rest with all the work he’d needed to do to ensure this place was ready, and being healed, and when the aurors were here, there was one other thing he needed to attend to, a conversation he needed to have with a certain cloaked figure.
Maybe Harry just needed some reassurance because he was certain he would not get any answers about just what the hell had happened. As far as he had been concerned, he would have plenty of time in the other place to begin doing what required his attention there.
That had not been so.
Maybe he would get an explanation but he was not hopeful.
No, as had become the norm for him, Harry would find himself irrevocably torn between the two worlds, attempting to juggle his responsibilities to each, unable to find a balance that would see neither of them neglected.
He shook his head as he checked his watch.
It was almost lunchtime now, and with the prospect of seeing the aurors settled and everything else he needed to do, he knew it was unlikely he would be granted the rest he desired as soon as he would like.
With a humourless chuckle to himself, he apparated away, but managed to find a semblance of comfort upon arriving in Godric’s Hollow, the magic permeating the air here wrapping him in a protective embrace.
Entering the churchyard, he found the aurors waiting for him, and an exhausted Dawlish approached, offering him a wan smile.
“Potter, we’re all here. One hundred and twelve aurors, including those that were smarter than the rest of us by not going back to work after what happened to Scrimgeour and Moody. There are four hundred of us in all with husbands, wives, and children.”
Harry nodded.
“There’s plenty of room for you all,” Harry assured the man. “It will take some work, but everything you will need is there.”
“Thanks, Potter,” Dawlish said sincerely, “and I meant what I said. We will all help you with anything you need. We want him gone, and you’re the one to see to it.”
He offered his hand, and Harry accepted it readily.
He would need all the help he could get, after all.
“Who’s going to be in charge of you?” he asked.
Dawlish shrugged.
“Robards, I expect. He was the head auror, and maybe me or Kingsley will deputise. We’re the most senior.”
“Why not both of you,” Harry suggested. “I’m sure between three of you, you can make it work.”
Dawlish nodded thoughtfully.
“I’ll run it by them. It’s not as though this is the ministry anymore, is it?” he snorted.
“No, but it will be, one day.”
“I hope so, Potter. I really do. I’ll get the others ready. How are we…?”
“I’ll make some portkeys, and then there are a few things I need to do before I join you there, but before that, there is one other thing,” he sighed as he removed several vials of a clear liquid from within his robes. “We can’t be too careful, Dawlish. We need to know that everyone here is on the same page. Women and children too.”
Dawlish deflated.
“They won’t like it, but they’ll damn well do it. We can’t take any needless risks.”
“Agreed,” Harry returned, handing him the vials.
Dawlish nodded once more and clapped him smartly on the shoulder before approaching those that had arrived here, their lives suddenly disrupted, but Harry was hopeful it would see them survive the duration of what was unfolding around them.
They wouldn’t like being questioned under Veritaserum, but it was non-negotiable.
If even one of them harboured support for Riddle, it meant all of them were at risk and Harry would not see that so. No, he needed to be certain of everything he did, even with those who needed his help.
(Break)
“As much of an honour as it is to be invited to share lunch with you, Mr Flamel, I get the impression it is not simply my company you crave.”
“It is not,” Nicholas confirmed. “I was hoping to discuss a former student of yours.”
“I have been an educator for almost seven decades. I know that may not seem so long to a man such as yourself, but you will need to be more specific.”
Seventy years.
It was a long time to serve the magical community, and Mrs Djurdevic had only been the headmistress of Durmstrang for the past eleven of them.
“Gellert Grindelwald.”
The woman’s expression darkened, and she took a sip of her coffee, evidently mulling over her next words carefully.
“What is it you wish to know?”
“Whatever it is you can tell me.”
Djurdevic frowned.
“You have made his acquaintance?”
“No, but he has become something of an interest to me.”
Djurdevic released a deep breath.
“In all of my years at Durmstrang, I have never seen a student expelled, and I never expected I would be the one to do it.”
“Expelled?”
“Even we have our limits on what is acceptable to pursue within our walls, Mr Flamel. They are few, but they exist. Now, Grindelwald…”
She paused and looked around the busy Parisian square before continuing.
“Grindelwald is perhaps the most brilliant student I’ve ever seen pass through the school. He is exceptionally talented with magic and possesses the sharpest of minds. It is his ambition, lack of empathy, and willingness to do whatever he believes necessary to achieve his goals that I found to be troubling. His first few years were spent leaving any who taught him dumbfounded by his brilliance. It was when he returned for his fourth year that we began to notice the changes. He became reclusive, going missing for hours and even days at a time, and missed several classes. His grades did not slip, so we allowed him his freedom. It was during his sixth year that he was discovered practicing magic that he was quickly and firmly warned about to leave well alone.”
She took another sip of her coffee.
“Of course, he did not listen. It turns out that he became obsessed with a tale he’d heard. I’m sure you are familiar with The Three Brothers.”
“The Deathly Hallows.”
Albus had made mention of them in passing only recently, which was certainly no coincidence it seemed.
“The very same. We’ve had more than our fair share of people curious about them, but none who went to the lengths of Grindelwald. Somewhere along the way, he got the idea into his head to replicate the feat in the story.”
“To attempt to summon Death?” Nicholas scoffed.
Djurdevic nodded gravely.
“Thankfully, we caught him, destroyed his work, and he was sent packing the same night. We are unsure if his efforts would’ve led to anything, but to even consider experimenting with such magic…”
“Is damned foolish,” Nicholas interjected.
“Which is why he was expelled. He not only delved into something that could’ve produced the very worst of consequences, but he did also so where his fellow students could’ve been harmed.”
Nicholas leaned back in his chair.
He had undertaken his own share of experiments, but nothing so damned dangerous, and his very own apprentice was utterly enamoured by this Grindelwald.
“If you want my advice, Mr Flamel, it would be to have nothing to do with the likes of Gellert Grindelwald. His ambition, whatever that may be, is something he will pursue with every mean at his disposal, and he will not allow any to stand in his way. He is a dangerous young man, more than any could ever imagine. I was glad to see the back of him and have no desire to see him again.”
Nicholas had not expected to be regaled with such a story, nor to be parting ways with Joanna Djurdevic feeling as uneasy and disturbed as he did now.
It was not his place to interfere in Albus’s life, but the young man had inadvertently involved himself with someone quite troubling indeed. Now, he needed to decide if he would mention what he knew.
The damned fool was besotted with Grindelwald, and Nicholas knew his words would likely fall on deaf ears.
It was quite the conundrum indeed, and a delicate situation he would need to ponder carefully.
He did not wish to alienate Albus towards him but equally, he did not wish to see him in trouble. Oh Albie was ambitious in his own right, but nothing like he’d learned about Grindelwald.
Still, the heart blinded the eyes to what was in front of them, and perhaps Nicholas was already too late to make him see sense.
“You’ve given me much to think about, Mrs Djurdevic,” he murmured, unsure on how he should proceed.
(Break)
“Bloody hell, is he alright?”
“He’s fine, Arthur. I’ve never seen anything like it, not even when Albus used to confront him, and Voldemort is not used to people fighting back the way Harry did.”
“But he will adapt.”
“He will,” Remus sighed. “This is new for him, just like it was when Albus used to be able to send him packing quickly enough the first time around. That didn’t last.”
“No, it didn’t.”
They remained silent for a few moments and Ron leaned a little closer to the kitchen door, not wanting to miss anything. It was times like these that he wished he had one of the twins Extendable-Ears, but he didn’t have any to hand.
“How are you doing, Arthur?”
He heard his father chuckle humourlessly in response.
“Most days, I don’t know. The house is too quiet with only me and Ron here, and honestly, I feel lost. I’ve spent the last three decades with Molly, building a life here, bringing children into the world, and now, she’s gone, just like that.”
He clicked his fingers to accentuate his point.
“I lost my only daughter, my oldest son, and my wife all at once. I don’t know what to do Remus. I just want to keep the rest of them safe, but the twins won’t let it lie, and neither will Charlie and Ron.”
He fell quiet once more.
“You’re just being a father, Arthur. You will always want to protect them no matter what they do.”
“But they’re all grown men now, Remus, and can make whatever choice they wish. Ron and the twins, they will want to be with Harry, and now that he has the aurors on side, that is where this war will be won. Me… I can’t do it anymore, Remus. I just can’t.”
“I know, and no one expects you to, Arthur.”
Ron could only smile sadly.
As things were, his father was a broken man, but at the very least, he wasn’t simply moping around the kitchen every waking moment. For the past few days now, he’d been spending time in his shed again, likely only trying to distract himself from his maudlin thoughts, but he was doing something.
Ron too was managing better than he was, well, when he wasn’t reliving that harrowing day that had changed so many things.
He had flown his broom for the first time in weeks just the previous day and had even gone for a walk to the nearest village, just to get away from where it had all happened.
Even now, he felt the urge to no longer be stuck in his room, or even in the house, and with only one thing on his mind, he left the house via the rarely used front door before circling around to orchard.
Opening the shed, he took hold of the broom his mother had purchased him upon being named a prefect almost two years prior now and swallowed the lump that formed in his throat.
With seven siblings, they’d never had much growing up, and this was the last thing his mother had insisted they set some gold aside to buy him. It wasn’t a new broom, or even close to being the very best, but it was something he would treasure for the rest of his life.
“Going for a fly?”
“Bloody hell, you scared the crap out of me,” Ron huffed, scowling at his grinning twin brothers.
Despite their expressions, the mischief that had once been there was noticeably absent.
“We’ll join you,” Fred declared. “It’s been too long since we were last on our brooms.”
“More than two years,” George mused aloud. “Not since we played our last game at Hogwarts.”
“Why didn’t you try to play professionally?” Ron asked. “You were both good enough.”
“Maybe,” Fred acknowledged, “but we played Quidditch because it was fun. If it became our job, it wouldn’t be so fun anymore. We’re not like you, Ron. We love it, but we’re not obsessed with it.”
“I’m not obsessed.”
“You would live on the back of that broom of yours, if you could. We always had other plans.”
“Opening the shop.”
“Exactly. Making people laugh, that is what we are passionate about.”
“Even now?”
His brothers frowned at the question before they both nodded.
“Maybe even more, Ronniekins.”
He nodded his understanding as he eyed his broom.
“I used to dream about playing Quidditch for a living.”
“You don’t anymore?”
Ron shrugged.
“Maybe, but I think I really do want to be an auror. I love Quidditch, but, I don’t know, I just think being an auror will be more rewarding, and it’s not as though the Canons’ luck will change with a good Keeper.”
“Not even with the amazing Ronald Weasley,” George ribbed good-naturedly. “Well, before any of that, there’s still this war. The question is, what are we going to do about it?”
That was the pertinent question, and one that Ron had been pondering since the wedding.
He knew that their father would see them sit out the war for the duration, that the man had lost so much and could not lose any more of his children. Even so, Ron could not see himself staying out of the war, and only had thus far for the sake of the man.
“You’re going to fight, aren’t you?”
Both twins nodded.
“Dad might not like it, but it’s not as though we’re going to tell him. They killed Mum, Bill, and Ginny,” George reminded him. “There’s no way we’re going to do nothing about it.”
“What are you going to do?”
“We’re going to see Harry. He’s the one leading the fight against them now.”
“It’s hard to think, isn’t it,” Fred mused aloud. “That specky, scrawny git we saved from his aunt and uncle is the one who’s going to kill him.”
George chuckled humourlessly as he nodded.
“He’s come a long way, our Harry.”
“Wait, you’re really going to do it?” Ron pressed.
“We are.”
“Then so am I, but how?”
“Well, you can always take a job working in the shop,” Fred suggested. “You’ll have an excuse to be away from here.”
“What about Dad, won’t he be lonely?”
Fred wrapped an arm around Ron’s shoulder.
“No matter what any of us do, he will be lonely, Ron.”
Ron nodded his understanding, his gaze shifting towards the home that had been tarnished by the Death Eaters who’d torn his entire family apart.
“Alright,” he agreed. “I’m in.”
It wasn’t that he needed an excuse to commit himself. Already, he’d decided he eventually would, but Fred and George were not so keen on sitting idly by whilst those who had killed their mother and two siblings were roaming freely.
No, judging by the expression each wore, they already had plans, and Ron could not deny that he wanted to be a part of it.
Their father would be displeased if he was to learn the truth, but Ron nor the twins were able to simply let what happened go. No, that wasn’t in their nature, and just because Arthur Weasley was rightfully broken and defeated, that didn’t mean all of them were, after all.
(Break)
“It sounds to me that, not only did you manage to save many lives, Harry, but you also managed to acquire yourself some much-needed assistance,” Ignotus praised.
Harry nodded tiredly.
He’d not had time to gather the portraits to take with him on his brief but memorable return journey, and now that he was back, it gave him the opportunity to discuss what happened and his thoughts on it.
Of course, he was relieved that the aurors were on his side, that he had something resembling a fighting force behind him, but what had occurred at Grimmauld Place was still a reminder of the struggle each of them faced.
“I feel like I may have shown my hand a little too much,” he sighed. “He will look into that magic and find a way to counter it.”
“Isn’t that the reason that you wanted to learn it, so you knew how to counter it?” Antioch returned. “You have much you can use against your enemies, Harry, and will master even more along the way. What you showed was merely one thing, a powerful piece of magic, of course, but just one example of what you are capable. More than anything else, you learned to master it to defend yourself from it when you inevitably face Grindelwald.”
Harry nodded.
Antioch was right.
Perhaps he was overthinking what had happened at Grimmauld Place. Undoubtedly, it was merely one of what would likely become several confrontations that would take place between him and Riddle.
Still, that did not answer why it had come so unexpectedly.
Riddle was unpredictable, but since the night Harry had been tricked into entering the `department of Mysteries, he’d been cautious for the most part, and certainly had shown no desire for the two of them to meet.
Maybe he had become restless, or he wished to test the contents of the prophecy that he had yet to learn.
Harry wasn’t certain, but when it came to the Dark Lord, the only thing he could be certain of was the final line of the prophecy.
…either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live whilst the other survives…
In the grand scheme of things, despite anything either he or Riddle would do, those words were what mattered. Ultimately, the outcome of the war would come down to the two of them, and Harry had every intention of being the one to emerge victorious.
What his efforts here would lead to, he was still unsure, but if the very same prophecy was somehow in effect, it would be Grindelwald he’d find himself facing.
He shook his head at the thought.
Given the intensity of the war back home, he could not even begin to think about what awaited him here, and yet, there was so much unfolding that he could not simply ignore it.
Somehow, he would need to find a balance between both places, both sets of circumstances that required him to be torn between two worlds. How he would do that, he was unsure, but he knew that he must.
With that in mind, he’d sent the three letters he’d written before Voldemort had attacked Grimmauld place, and was now awaiting a response from Henry Potter, Orion Black, and Cantankerus Nott, none of whom he was so keen on making the acquaintance of.
Each presented their own problems for Harry, but as ever, he would need to find a way of navigating them without either causing offence or drawing further attention to himself from either of the three men.
Thanks to Bathilda Bagshot, he was better prepared to meet with the latter of the trio and having met Orion Black previously he knew he would need to be careful.
Given the circumstances of how he’d managed to evade the man, Harry thought it best that he change his appearance just enough that he would not be recognised.
When it came to his great grandfather, he intended to keep an open mind and simply enjoy spending time in the company of the man, and any other member of his small family he might meet.
Yes, although he was nervous about any coming together with the Potters, it was a much less troubling prospect than meeting the Lord Black and the famed Nott historian.
“You’re doing well, Harry,” Cadmus said encouragingly. “You are still here and you are still fighting where most others would already have crumbled.”
Harry nodded as he leaned back in his chair, simply enjoying what he knew would be a brief moment of peace.
Soon, he would need to visit Ariana, return to check in with the aurors and Hermione, and undoubtedly prepare for whatever else awaited him here and there.
For now, however, he simply wished to rest, even just a little, before the next of many things required his attention.
(Break)
“From what I hear, you were doing well enough yourself before the aurors came.”
Harry snorted as he shook his head.
“Well enough, but it wouldn’t have lasted. I caught them by surprise to begin with, and Voldemort would’ve figured it out. Besides, when the aurors did come, I was already being put on the backfoot, so, thank you for getting them there.”
Nymphadora waved him off.
“At least we finally have people who will fight against him. They appreciate what you’re doing for them and their families.”
“He’d hunt them down if I didn’t,” Harry pointed out. “Speaking of which, are you going to speak with your parents about maybe going into hiding.”
Nymphadora nodded.
“I’ve already tried, but my mother is stubborn. Mabe she will listen this time.”
“I hope so,” Harry replied, stifling a yawn.
“Don’t you think you should get some rest?”
“I will soon, but there’s a few more things I need to do first. I’m just glad all of the aurors and the people they brought along didn’t make the Veritaserum thing difficult.”
“And they all passed.”
Harry nodded.
“I had my doubts, but I’m glad I was wrong. They’ll need some time to settle in, but hopefully soon, we will be able to start fighting back against him. I already have plans, but they will be better with some extra wands to help me.”
“What plans?”
“You’ll see soon enough,” Harry replied with a rueful grin before vanishing with a gentle pop.
He was so very different from the boy she’d met shortly after the Triwizard Tournament had concluded.
Truthfully, she could not envision that the scrawny, bespectacled, jittery boy could be the one Dumbledore was putting all his faith in to end the war, but over the past several months, she had come to see the potential Harry possessed.
Given how he’d managed to fend off Voldemort, several giants and dozens of Death Eaters by himself for a time before the aurors had arrived, he’d certainly proved his capability to any who may have harboured doubts.
Even so, the war was far from over, and anything could happen between now and its conclusion, which was why she had come to visit her parents in the hope of convincing them to go into hiding.
Already, her father would be a target, and even more so when he did not arrive at the Ministry of Magic to register himself under the Magical Registration Act and was hunted by Umbridge’s group which would inevitably be expanding to fill the roles of the wayward aurors.
Her mother had always been in the Dark Lord’s bad graces, but that didn’t change that she was in danger, more so than ever given that Nymphadora herself was actively fighting against the man.
“I do not know how many times you will insist on us having this conversation with us, but we will not be leaving our home,” he mother said stubbornly. “Everything we have, we worked for it, and I will not be bullied out of it or stand by whilst it is destroyed.”
“Mum, you have to know that they will come for you…”
“Just as they did last time, and we are still here, Dora. We survived being hunted down by my family, and Bellatrix tried to get into here no less than what, five or six times, dear?”
Her father nodded unconcernedly.
“Six, I think.”
“And how far did she get?”
“Not even through the front gate,” her father snorted.
“And even if she had made it through, there is more than enough to make sure she would do not do so again. You forget, girl, I was raised by the Blacks. I know ways to keep me and my family safe that would make your toes curl and probably see me locked in Azkaban.”
“It’s true,” her father interjected once more, turning the page on his newspaper. “You do not need to worry about us, Dora. We will be just fine.”
“And what about when you do not arrive to register for the new act? They have already replaced the aurors with another group of Voldemort’s supporters.”
“What happened to the aurors?”
“Did you not hear about what happened at Grimmauld Place?”
Her mother frowned and shook her head.
“Voldemort attacked the area with several giants and Death Eaters. Harry fought him in the street, and the aurors finally pulled their fingers out of their arses and helped him. Wasn’t it in the paper or on the radio?”
“I’ve not heard a thing,” her father replied.
“Dora, we lived through the first war, and we saw what he did. He killed Potter’s parents. You can’t truly believe the boy can defeat him?”
“Yes, Mum, I do,” Nymphadora said firmly. “I have seen what he is capable of, and what Harry is capable of. I saw them fight, and it wasn’t Voldemort who got the better of it. If you don’t think he can win, then why are you here? Why haven’t you left?”
“Because whatever happens doesn’t matter so much. If Potter wins, things will go back to normal until another Dark Lord tries his luck, and if he loses, well, we are safe enough here. We remember how close he was to winning the last time around, and we had our plans in place, just as we do now.”
Nymphadora could only look dumbly between her mother and father.
She did not expect them to be involved in the war, but she would think they would be more concerned about what was happening. Evidently, that was not so, and she knew there was nothing else she could say that would change their minds.
Even so, their casual acceptance of what may be did not leave her any less concerned for them, and even when her mother gave her shoulder a reassuring squeeze and something of a sad smile, she could not begin to fathom what it was she was feeling.
She was worried for them, believed they were not taking it as seriously as they should, or maybe they truly were not so concerned.
Nymphadora didn’t think so.
They may not be showing it, but she knew they were worried about the outcome of the conflict. As ever, they were doing what they always had, and trying to spare her feelings about how concerned they were.
She remembered when she’d been a child, remembered how protective they’d been of her, especially when it came to the Blacks and ensuring they could not harm her.
Nymphadora had been too young to understand why they might do so, but as she’d gotten older and wished to leave the house more, she’d learned of her mother’s family and their ways.
More so, she remembered when she’d first told them of Voldemort’s return a couple of years prior, and how troubled they’d been when the Death Eaters had escaped Azkaban, especially her aunt.
It was the one time recently her mother had pleaded with her to be careful, to do whatever it took to avoid Bellatrix.
Nymphadora frowned as she eyed her parents.
They were putting on a brave face, but she suspected that they were much more concerned than they were letting on. This war was already much different from the one they had lived with.
Before, they’d only needed to contend with the Death Eaters and Voldemort, which was harrowing enough, but now, the man had all of the resources of the Ministry of Magic at his disposal, and though they would not admit it to her, they were concerned about what was happening.
Maybe they were simply doing what they always had when it came to their daughter by trying to protect her in their own way.
Of course, she appreciated it, but the days she needed their protection were long behind them.
Nymphadora was no longer a little girl who was in danger from what remained of the Blacks. No, she was fighting this war, and although her parents would not admit it aloud, they were in danger, more so than they’d ever been.
Still, both were stubborn and proud, and she knew that would not change.
As frustrating and worrying as it was for her, Nymphadora knew she would not get through to them tonight, but maybe, just maybe, when they saw for themselves what was truly happening, they may just understand that this isn’t like it was before.
No, the war had barely begun and already, the prospect of what may be was far worse than the first time around.
(Break)
He stepped out of the pensieve with a deep, thoughtful frown creasing his brow, and the pale, red-eyed Dark Lord waited patiently for him to speak.
“I’ve never seen anything like it, my lord,” Severus declared honestly.
He hadn’t, and though he could not feel the magic through whilst inside the memory, he did not doubt the power and creativity of what it was Potter had wielded.
It had certainly left the Dark Lord feeling concerned, even if he refused to acknowledge it. If it hadn’t, he would not have asked for Severus to view the memory and share his thoughts.
Not when he knew just how much work there was to do to prepare the castle for the students returning in September.
With the considerable increase in numbers, the elves had been kept busy expanding dormitories, readying additional classrooms, and ensuring there was enough food.
Severus had finally managed to fill all of the vacancies he’d needed to, and had reluctantly appointed a few of the lesser-known Death Eaters into a few of them with the understanding that they would conduct themselves appropriately.
With the likes of Bode and Mulciber, he doubted they would listen, which meant that as the headmaster, he would either. Have to remain ignorant of what they were doing, or deal with it in a way to keep the castle satisfied.
That in itself was a strange thought.
Having taken control of the castle, Severus had expected to feel just a little more connected to everything with in it, but truthfully, he could not say he felt any different.
Maybe it was the very nature of the magic not to be so needy of his attention, but being the headmaster seemed to be rather lacklustre compared to what he had expected.
Still, it kept him busy enough.
The elves may be doing much of the legwork in preparing the castle for the arrival of the students, but it was Severus who needed to arrange for additional resources and complete all the administration to go along with such changes; changes he could do without.
“Nor have I,” the Dark Lord murmured. “He is becoming rather problematic. He put up more of a fight than I ever expected to see from him. I admit, he surprised me, but it will not happen again. I do not suppose you are expecting him to return in September.”
“I am not, my lord, but you never know what Potter might do. He is quite unpredictable.”
The Dark Lord nodded as he stood.
“He would be a fool to return, and just as foolish to flee. It is just what I will need to ensure that he is not so well thought of among the common rabble. He can run, Severus, but he cannot hide from me.”
“Who can, my lord?” Severus asked as he took his leave of the room.
What the Dark Lord failed to realise was that Potter was not running from him. He had not fled from the confrontation between the two, nor had he hidden.
No, the damned foolish boy had thrown himself into a fight against, not only the Dark Lord, but his Death Eaters and several of his followers all at once.
No, Potter was not fleeing. He was beginning to stalk his foe from within the shadows, and Severus did not doubt that what had happened between them at Grimmauld Place would only embolden the boy.
Yes, soon enough, he would begin striking back, and as much as the Dark Lord declared that Potter feared him, he would soon have to accept that wasn’t so.
Perhaps he truly was a damned fool, but Potter did not fear the man. If anything, he seemed to relish those moments they’d been locked on combat, even if it was clear that he wasn’t ready to defeat the man who’d murdered his parents.