Infamy
“I heard the name Peverell and foolishly assumed I would be dealing with a much older man,” Orion Black spoke, eyeing Harry speculatively. “Not only was I wrong in my assumption about your age, but in the calibre of man I would be dealing with. Now, we met briefly a few years ago, I’m sure you remember.”
Harry nodded, ensuring his wand was able to be within his hands instantly if required.
“Not only did you insult me that day, Mr Peverell, you interfered in the affairs of my brother in Sherwood Forest. Do you remember that?”
“You mean when they were hunting muggles.”
Black snorted humourlessly.
“Such sport has never appealed to me. I find it to be rather distasteful and cowardly. I prefer to duel, or fight, or something else that would see me on even footing with another. Sometimes I like to play chess, but I get no joy in praying on those weaker than me. I cannot say the same for my brother and his wife, whom you certainly left an impression on, or the likes of Gaunt, Flint, and the others. With that being said, I’m going to give you the benefit of the doubt and make another assumption that you did not know who or what it was you were intruding upon.”
“Not who, at first, but I figured out what was happening quickly enough. I don’t like bullies, Lord Black, and I only did what I thought was right. I would go as far to say that I would do it again if I found myself in a similar position.”
Black eyed him once more before laughing and waving one of the waiters over.
Harry had been brought to a different restaurant to the one he’d visited with Cantankerus Nott.
This was more of a bar that served food as an afterthought, focusing mostly on liquor, cigars, and other tobacco products. There was a very earthy smell about the place, mixed mostly with whiskey and something else Harry was unfamiliar with.
Despite it appearing to be a rather simple establishment, there was an air of downplayed luxury to the place, and he suspected that this was a rather exclusive establishment.
“Two of your finest whiskeys and cigars, Donovan,” Black requested, chuckling once more as the waiter left them alone once more. “I like you, Peverell. You know who I am, likely know of my reputation, and yet, you are as brazen as you are honest. I appreciate that. I grow rather tired of those that would agree with me for no other reason than the name I carry. I like to be challenged, to be disagreed with, the nuances of debate and having my mind changed as much as the prospect of changing a mind. Life is rather dull without those things, don’t you agree?”
Harry nodded.
“Not all things can and should be solved with a wand. The world would be a very unpleasant place without being able to compromise and negotiate.”
“Indeed,” Black agreed. “Now, for the time being, allow us to forget any perceived, intentional or not, transgression against one another and simply enjoy another of the finer things in life. This is an excellent place to escape everything and everyone, or to socialise intimately without any paying attention to you. Do you see the two men playing chess in the corner?”
“I do.”
“Well, both own an apothecary each in Knockturn Alley. During the day, they are the fiercest of rivals and have even come to blows on more than one occasion. Now, both are among the very best chess players you will ever meet, and that is why they come here. Here, they can forget everything that separates them and enjoy what brings them together. I expect it could be much the same for us.”
“For us?”
Orion Black nodded.
“I think you would agree in the short amount of time we have spent together, both of us are deeply aware that we are so very different. You are something of a noble, honourable young man, not without talent, I expect, and I am a shrewd, mostly amoral man with a reputation to uphold. Outside of these walls, we would undoubtedly clash, not see eye-to-eye on many issues in the world, and perhaps that would lead to violence with how passionate we are.”
“Maybe.”
Orion chuckled once more and took a moment to light his cigar.
“Your family is one older than mine, Peverell, and it would be a shame for us to have such a hostile relationship. Friends, we are unlikely to become, but you fascinate me, are not intimidated by me, and if we can discuss our thoughts and observations of the world within these walls, then there will be no need for any hostility.”
Harry leaned back in his chair.
“Are you married, Lord Black?”
“I am.”
“And you have children?”
The man smiled proudly.
“Three, and my wife is pregnant with our fourth. Cassiopeia is nearing fourteen, Perseus, my heir, is ten, and Arcturus will soon be two.”
“You are proud of them and you love them.”
Black frowned as he nodded.
“I have none of those things,” Harry declared. “I have no wife, no children, and no family, which means I have absolutely nothing to lose. I have no intention of us being at odds with one another. There is nothing for either of us to gain from that, but I want you to know that it is not in my nature to back down either. What I am saying to you Lord Black, is that although I would rather us not become enemies, you have considerably more to lose than I do. Death is familiar to me, is with me wherever I go, and my life is the one thing you can take. It means nothing to me. We will all die one day, and I will welcome it as it welcomes me.”
Orion Black’s expression was unreadable for a moment before he nodded.
“You speak truthfully, Peverell, and I respect that. I think for both of our sakes that it is best that we remain on amicable terms. I will speak with my brother and explain that we have reached an accord, but I urge you to take my advice. The reputation of your family ensures that you will not be left alone. I urge you to use that reputation to your advantage, build on it even. It will serve you well. You may not be a member of the Wizengamot, but your name alone can be the greatest of assets to you. Do you understand what I am saying?”
Harry nodded thoughtfully, though he frowned.
“Other than us being on neutral terms at worst, what do you get out of this?”
Orion offered him something of a smile.
“A rare ally should the need arise, and you shall have the same, but only if you take my advice, Peverell. I would have the most formidable of ally, as should you.”
“And how would you suggest I build my reputation? I have no seat on the Wizengamot.”
“Oh, there are many other ways, Peverell. Become a duellist, or a Quidditch player if you have the talent. Become a ruthless businessman. The possibilities are endless. Now, let us see how keen you are when it comes to the art of chess.”
It had been a rather surreal experience.
The two had parted after a few games of chess, and though Harry had lost each of them, he’d put up quite the fight with thanks to the many hours he’d spent playing with Ron.
Evidently, he had learned something about the game, after all.
Even so, it was not his chess performance that Harry would remember, it was the parting words of Orion Black.
“We shall meet here if there is ever anything for us to discuss. I will get word to you, or you to me. I expect you will become quite the prominent figure in time, Peverell. We could be quite the force to be reckoned with.”
“What makes you think that?”
“I have a feeling about you, Peverell. Whether it is a good or bad feeling remains to be seen, but I have a feeling, nonetheless.”
Orion Black had proven to be a perceptive man, as sharp as any other he’d ever met, and undoubtedly deadly with his wand.
Harry had expected to dislike the man.
From what Sirius had told him about his family, they had all been rather detestable, save for Andromeda, and yet, he found he’d quite enjoyed Orion’s company.
He had a dry sense of humour, spoke without the need of flowery words, and whatever he said, he did so with purpose and conviction, even when he knew the sentiment would not be agreed upon.
Perhaps Harry had been surrounded by people wanting to manipulate him for much of his lie, or outright despised him, but Orion Black was affable enough.
“I still can’t do it!” Ariana huffed frustratedly, pulling him from his thoughts.
“It will take time,” Harry comforted.
“My mother and Albie managed it quickly enough.”
“Your mother and Albie are not carrying the same trauma that you are. It makes mastering the spell infinitely more difficult. Until you can fully immerse yourself in a feeling of unbridled happiness, it is not going to become corporeal.”
Thus far, she had managed to conjure a shield, much like Harry’s own throughout most of his third year, which in itself was quite remarkable.
Truthfully, Harry had expected it would take her much longer to achieve that, but Ariana was determined if nothing else, and he did not doubt that one day, maybe not as soon as she’d like, she would achieve a corporeal patronus.
“I’m not used to failing at things so many times,” she grumbled.
“Well, you can’t always be brilliant at everything.”
“You are.”
Harry laughed as he shook his head.
“That is not true. Mostly, I’m just as stubborn as you. It took me weeks of hard work to master the summoning charm, but when I did, I was able to summon things from a ridiculous distance.”
“How far?”
Hary frowned as he shrugged.
“I could summon something from my house without any problems.”
Ariana scoffed.
“From that far?”
“Even further than that.”
Ariana quirked an eyebrow at him.
“Then maybe my patronus will be more powerful than yours.”
“Maybe it will be, but we’ll never know unless you keep practicing.”
She nodded determinedly.
“Thank you, Harry.”
“For what?”
“For everything. I don’t know if I’ve said it, but I can’t say it enough. I don’t know where I would be without you.”
Harry did.
Had he not met the girl, or if things had been as they had before, Ariana Dumbledore would already be dead, Albus would be living in a state of constant grief estranged from his brother, and Grindelwald would be consolidating and building power for his eventual attempted takeover of Europe.
For the sake of the world at large, perhaps it would’ve been better and easier to allow things to play out that way, but as he watched the girl attempt the patronus charm once more, Harry knew he’d done the right thing.
Despite whatever it was Albus and Grindelwald would do, and what Harry would need to do in response to stop them, he did not doubt that what he’d done already was right.
Death nor Fate may agree with his actions, but there were somethings he needed to figure out for himself, and this was one of those he knew he would not live to regret.
Of course, he’d created quite the problem to overcome in the future, and the plans he had in motion may not be enough to prevent disaster. Still, there was no such thing as a perfect outcome.
In what was to come, there would be violence, a struggle for power, and just as it was back home, Harry would undoubtedly be at the forefront of it.
His only hope was that he was successful, and that Albus would see the error of his ways before it was too late.
It would be a shame to have to kill the man, after all.
“You’re leaving again, aren’t you?”
“What do you mean?”
“You aways have that same look when something is bothering you, and you always leave for a while shortly after.”
Harry offered Ariana a sad smile.
“Never forever,” he sighed.
“I know. I’m not as reliant on you now as I used to be, but I like having you around. Besides, we still have to get my first pet.”
“We will,” Harry assured her, looking towards the church in the distance. “We will.
Ariana was right.
As much as he’d planned to be here for a while longer yet, he could feel the pull of home urging him to go back. There, Voldemort awaited him, and given the state of Britain, the Dark Lord would not wait much longer.
No, the war may appear as though it was still in its infancy, but there was a storm on the horizon, and the time to truly take the fight to his foe was already upon him.
He had the resources in place, the motivation to act, and doing so had become something of a necessity.
There was no denying that he was losing the war, but with the aurors now at his back, at least an idea of how he would proceed, and the desire to see Riddle dead, there was nothing else to do but begin working towards that end.
Of course, he would be here again where he would be needed once more. For now, however, he had a prophecy to fulfil, a chapter of his life to bring to its conclusion, and many enemies to rid himself of to take the first steps on his path to whatever peace he could find.
(Break)
“Of course it will work. We just need to test it and tweak it if it doesn’t quite work as we want, but it will definitely work.”
“Then we need to find a target,” George murmured.
It was barely past five am, and the twins were once more gathered in their workroom, holding a clandestine meaning between themselves whilst planning something that did not pertain to the shop.
Perhaps he should feel bad for eavesdropping on them, but Ron didn’t, and it wasn’t the first time he’d overheard these conversations. It wasn’t as though they were truly trying to hide what they were doing.
Still, he’d not heard enough from them to glean much, though he was certain they’d created something new, and would be using it against the Death Eaters.
“Where?”
Silence fell for several moments, and Ron crept a little closer to the door, just in case the two of them had started whispering.
“This map is bloody useless,” Fred huffed. “All it shows is the officially registered businesses. We both know there’s more than that there.”
“We could always check it out ourselves. We’ll take it in turns seeing what we can find.”
“That could take months, and that’s even if we can find a way into any of these places.”
“If they even exist, George,” Fred sighed. “We know it is dodgy, but it’s only rumours.”
“You’re not having second thoughts, are you?”
“Of course not.”
“Then stop moping. We will figure it out. Come on, Fred, we both know these places are there. How difficult can it be to find them?”
“Bloody difficult. These places will be hidden, and it’s not like that prat in there is useful.”
Ron frowned at the direction the conversation had taken.
Were they speaking about him?
“Maybe we should just wipe his memory and send him on his way.”
“Maybe, but I think we should get some veritaserum in him first. I know a place next door I can get some.”
By now, Ron was completely confused and pushed the door open to see the twins poring over what appeared to be a large map of a street. They made no move to cover it up, nor did they look as though they’d been caught doing something they shouldn’t be.
Then again, they’d perfected the air of innocence over the years their mother had been watching their every move.
“What’re you two doing?” he asked.
“That depends,” George replied with a shrug. “Are you going to tell Dad?”
Ron looked between his older siblings.
“I’m here aren’t I,” he pointed out.
Fred and George shared a look, and Ron got the impression that an entire conversation took place between them in a matter of seconds before the latter gestured to the map.
“Recognise it?”
Were it not for the labelled shops sprawled out across the parchment, Ron would have no idea what he was looking at.
“Knockturn Alley,” he answered. “Why are you interested in it?”
“Because, Ronald, that is where the majority of our Death Eater friends spend a considerable amount of time either getting pissed up, conducting business, or recruiting for their master,” George explained.
“And your plan is to do what exactly?”
“Revenge,” Fred answered unashamedly. “They’re going to pay for what happened to Mum, Bill, and Ginny.”
Ron looked back towards the map and placed his hands flat on the table.
All he could see laid out before him was businesses, and the unmarked buildings were likely houses. It wasn’t as though any of them would be marked as secret Death Eater headquarters, after all.
“You were talking about someone else. You said he wasn’t being helpful.”
The twins shared another look and Fred gestured for Ron to follow him.
He did so until they reached a storage cupboard, and when it was opened, his eyes widened at the sight of the man bound to a chair and gagged. His left sleeve was torn, and upon his forearm was the Dark Mark.
“We found him the day after wedding. Both of his legs were broken, and well, since the Ministry of Magic had fallen, there wasn’t anywhere else to take him, and we weren’t going to let him go. It’s a shame he’s bloody useless. He doesn’t know anything.”
Ron’s gaze remained fixed on the Death Eater, who was staring back at him pitifully.
“Harry,” he sighed.
“Harry?”
“If you think there is somewhere in Knockturn Alley that they’re gathering, Harry will be able to find it. You should speak with him.”
“We’ve thought about it, and maybe you’re right,” George conceded. “What do you think, Fred?”
“I think Harry has just as much right as any of us to be a part of this. Maybe he’ll have an idea of what to do with this one,” Fred replied, jerking a thumb in the direction of the struggling Death Eater.
After what he’d seen Harry do to the other Death Eaters at the wedding, Ron was left in no doubt what Harry’s course of action would be, and yet, he could not find it within himself to feel an sympathy for the bound man.
No, he would reap what he’d sown and pay the price for joining the Dark Lord.
“I’ll write to him,” he declared, shooting the man a look of disgust. “He’ll help us figure out what to do.”
(Break)
She looked up from her book and towards the window longingly. Even for Hermione, there was only so much she could read or remain in the house without the need of fresh air.
Not that she would risk it beyond opening a window or two.
Tonks had visited to warn her about what had been transpiring in the Ministry of Magic, and it was only a matter of time before Thicknesse gave Umbridge the command to start rounding up those who’d not arrived to be registered.
Hermione certainly wasn’t stupid enough to place herself at the mercy of the Ministry of Magic, especially when it was being controlled by Voldemort.
No, and soon enough, she among the many others who’d refused to comply with the Dark Lord would find themselves declared as fugitives.
She shook her head at the thought as she slammed the tome she’d been poring over shut.
Even if she wanted to, she could no longer focus on what she’d read.
No, her mind was elsewhere, mostly with where Harry was and what he might be doing.
Not that she would give it much thought. Doing so only ever succeeded in provoking a most unpleasant headache from not being able to understand or explain what it was her friend was experiencing.
What Hermione was certain of, well, as certain as she could be, was that it was not merely bouts of time travel Harry was partaking in. He’d said as much himself, but she could not even begin to fathom how he found himself in a world almost one hundred years in the past.
She rubbed her eyes tiredly as she stood and opened the window in the library as she reached it.
With it still being summer, it was stifling enough that there was little fresh air to be let in, and though she was not prone to bouts of it, she could not deny that cabin fever was beginning to set in.
Perhaps it was knowing that she couldn’t simply leave the house if she wished to the bothered her so, or maybe she truly did not to feel a sense of freedom.
For the first time, she understood how Sirius must’ve felt when he’d been locked within these walls for the better part of two years before he’d died having swapped one prison for another.
She shook hr head sadly.
She wouldn’t pretend she’d known him well, but he’d always been kind to her, and more than anything, he was one of so few who cared about Harry without an ulterior motive.
“Kreacher, you made me jump!” she yelped as the elf suddenly appeared next to her.
The wide-eyed Kreacher placed a finger to his lips as his gaze scanned to darkened street.
“Kreacher is sorry, Miss,” the elf whispered.
“Is there going to be another attack?”
The elf shook his head.
“No, Miss, but someone Kreacher knows is being out there.”
“One of the Death Eaters?”
“No, Miss, it is Mistress Cassie.”
“Mistress Cassie?” Hermione asked with a frown.
Kreacher said nothing but traced his finger along the window, and a figure appeared from the shadows, a figure that seemed to be looking directly at them.
For several moments, the woman simply watched before releasing a deep sigh.
“I know you are watching me. Tell Potter that I would speak with him. Tell him to reach out to me. I have questions that I would have answered. Tell him, Kreacher, you treacherous elf. Tell him he is safe from me so long as he is truthful.”
With that, she vanished silently, and Hermione swallowed the nervous lump that had formed in her throat.
“Kreacher, who was that?” she asked.
He was still staring where the woman had been standing and did so for some time before his concerned gaze met Hermione’s.
“Mistress Cassie,” he replied quietly, gesturing for her to follow.
Curiously, she did so and found herself in the room depicting the Black family tree. It was an impressive assortment of lines connecting hundreds upon hundreds of witches and wizards born to them over the course of several centuries.
Some names had been burned away; those who’d brought shame upon them, or maybe even slighted them in some way, and it was one of the more modern branches Kreacher paused in front of.
“Lord Orion Black,” he spoke, tracing his finger to the three children of the man and his wife. “Perseus Black, died in 1941. He was the heir.”
He offered no further comment on the man, who’d only been slightly older than Hermione when he’d perished.
“Arcturus Black, the former Lord of the family,” Kreacher spoke once more as he continued following the line with his finger, only pausing when he reached the name that followed. “Cassiopeia Black, sister of Perseus and Arcturus.”
Her own line ended with her.
She’d never married or had any children, and she was one of few people Hermione could see depicted who yet lived, though she was more than a century old now.
“That was her?”
“Yes, Miss, that was Mistress Cassie.”
“You seem worried about her.”
“Mistress Cassie is not a nice lady. She would kill you, Miss, just because of your blood. She did it to others when she was younger before…”
He broke off once more and shook his head.
“Before what, Kreacher?”
“Before she chose to serve Grindelwald.”
Hermione’s eyes widened at the revelation.
“What would she want with Harry?”
“Kreacher doesn’t know, but anything that Mistress Cassie wants is never good. Lord Arcturus tried to keep her away from the family.”
“But he failed.”
“With Miss Bella. Miss Bella spent lots of time with Mistress Cassie in the library. Mistress Cassie is a very dangerous witch, even for Master Harry.”
Hermione released a deep breath.
“Why is that Harry has a way of attracting dangerous people to him?” she huffed irritably.
“Because Master Harry is a dangerous wizard, Miss,” Kreacher replied, offering her an emphatic nod before vanishing with a click of his fingers.
Hermione could only shake her head once more as she continued staring at the Black family tree, troubled by the arrival of the evidently wayward woman.
What she could possibly want with Harry other than to cause him harm, she didn’t know, but her sudden appearance could not be a coincidence. No, something had happened which had led to her arriving here tonight desiring to speak with Harry.
He would be safe from her so long as he answered her questions…
That was what Cassiopeia had stated, but what was it Harry knew that Cassiopeia Black was interested in?
No, it did not sit right with Hermione, but knowing Harry, he would humour the dangerous woman, nonetheless.
The same, however, could not be said for the next person to arrive outside of the home.
Bellatrix Lestrange.
Of course, she was Cassiopeia’s niece, but Harry would only grant the woman a slow and miserable death. Still, it was troubling that both had arrived within moments of the other, but Bellatrix did not linger.
When she realised that Cassiopeia was not here, she left quickly, evidently trying to locate her great aunt.
What was happening was quite the curious development, and Hermione suspected that Bellatrix was not a part of Cassiopeia’s plan to speak with Harry. If anything, Lestrange seemed to be attempting to prevent it from happening.
Still, it did not explain why Cassiopeia was looking for Harry in the first place, and Hermione could only imagine what her reasons were.
Then again, when it came to her friend, there was rarely little rhyme or reason to anything that happened to or around him.
(Break)
He read through the pieces of parchment and nodded to himself. On the surface, it appeared that the Magical Registration Act was proving to be a resounding success, and yet, both Thicknesse and Yaxley looked to be rather troubled.
“What is it?” the Dark Lord asked.
“This is maybe two thirds of what we were expecting, my lord, and we made it abundantly clear that today was the very last day to arrive to register. It has been on the wireless, advertised in every shop in Diagon Alley, Knockturn Alley, and even Hogsmeade. It has been on the front of every piece of media available to us.”
“So, there are many who have decided to flout the law.”
“I think some will not have taken the warnings seriously,” Yaxley interjected, “and others, well, there was always going to be refusals, my lord.”
His nostrils flared irritably.
One third of them either did not care enough to listen or were outright defying him.
Neither was acceptable.
“You will make an example of them, Thicknesse. I want them found.”
“Dolores will be only too pleased to be given the instruction, my lord.”
“And the aurors?” Voldemort pressed, his gaze shifting towards Yaxley, who shook his head.
“Nothing, my lord. Their homes have been abandoned and there is no sign of them anywhere. It is as though they have vanished off the face of the earth.”
He released a dep breath.
Potter.
Potter was undoubtedly hiding them, which meant he had a highly trained force at his disposal that was not beholden to the law his Death Eaters were accustomed to.
During the skirmish at Grimmauld Place, they’d proven they were willing to use lethal force, and had it not been for the fight between the Dark Lord and Potter being so widely destructive, the death toll would undoubtedly have been worse on both sides.
“They will show themselves, and we will be ready for them,” Voldemort declared dismissively. “Has anyone heard from Lucius?”
“A few days ago, my lord,” Yaxley answered. “He is still in America looking for his wife and son.”
As frustrating as it was that Lucius was away, the man had not exactly been his most useful asset of late, and his desire to punish Draco and Narcissa still outweighed his irritability. Even so, he’d granted Lucius ample time to find them, and as he’d become accustomed to, the man had failed him again.
“I will give him one final month,” he decided. “And what of Potter?”
“Nothing, my lord,” Yaxley answered. “I have every available man and woman looking for him, but there is no sign. Of course, he has not arrived at the Ministry of Magic to register.”
“He is not so foolish.”
His absence could not be attributed to cowardice.
No, the one thing the Dark Lord would never deny was that the boy was as courageous as they came, recklessly so, but even when the odds had been stacked against him at Grimmauld Place when faced with giants, dementors, Death Eaters, and the Dark Lord himself, he had stood boldly before them all.
“Keep looking, Titus. I want to know of even the slightest inkling of where he is.”
“You expect him to come out of hiding.”
“He is not hiding, Titus. He is plotting and acting within the shadows, for now, but it will not last. He must strike against us, for what good it will do him.”
“My lord, I do not…”
“Titus, you do not know Harry Potter the way that I do. He has already proven that he is not like Dumbledore nor any other who has opposed us. He is dangerous, and it would not do for us to underestimate him. He will die by my hand, of course, but he is no mere boy, not anymore.”
Both Yaxley and Thicknesse shared an uneasy look before nodding and taking their leave of the room, and the Dark Lord returned to his own musings.
Potter had always been problematic enough, even before he’d held his own wand, and though he had undoubtedly developed something akin to competence, the outcome remained the same as it had always been.
It would be the Dark Lord to emerge victorious, and the world would see that Harry Potter had only ever been fortunate thus far that he had survived so long in the face of insurmountable adversity.
He would perish, and those who’d ever doubted or defied the Dark Lord would fall to their knees to beg for a mercy they would not be granted.
His hand twitched towards his wand in anticipation.
Soon enough, they would inevitably meet again, and Potter would be the one to fall when they did.
(Break)
It had been harder to leave this time around.
With Ariana working on her patronus charm, and Albus somewhere in America with Grindelwald, there was little that Harry could do without gathering information first.
Already, he planned on seeking out those who’d been around when Grindelwald had grown in prominence in America, how the man had done so, and anything else relevant that had happened.
Of course, he would speak with Albus’s portrait, but he wanted as unbiased an account as he could put together before doing so.
He did not doubt the man would help him, but until his very last breath, there was no denying the affection he’d held onto for Grindelwald.
Still, before he could begin to look into that, there were other things requiring his attention.
“You do not seem surprised that Cassiopeia Black is looking for you,” Hermione said almost accusingly.
“I’m not,” Harry replied with a shrug, “and she doesn’t mean me harm, well, not yet, at least. That could always change, and you know of my talent for making enemies.”
Something of a grin tugged at her lips.
“So, why is she looking for you?”
“That is a very long, convoluted, and almost pointless explanation. All that matters is that she is looking for me, and she won’t stop until I speak with her.”
“You’re actually going to meet her?” Hermione snorted.
Harry nodded.
Grindelwald had warned him that if the woman was alive that she would seek answers, and without Dumbledore to give them, she would look for the next best thing.
Truthfully, Harry had not given it much thought but given that he’d used magic that the Dark Lord had invented, and Cassiopeia had evidently become aware of it, it wasn’t so surprising that she had come to Britain.
Not that he was so troubled her.
She was undoubtedly a gifted, dangerous witch in her own right, but nothing that Harry couldn’t handle.
Still, it was rather strange to be meeting the woman when she’d only just been mentioned to him by Orion Black. Perhaps it would be quite interesting to meet her whenever he managed to return to the other world he’d just left behind.
That would depend on the woman he would soon meet here when he reached out to her.
He would do so soon; however, he was more focused on the missive he’d received from Ron in his absence.
“I’ll make sure I get you out of the house tomorrow,” he promised Hermione. “I know this isn’t easy for you, but it is for your safety.”
“I know, Harry,” she sighed in response, frowning as he stood. “Where are you going?”
“There’s just something I want to check on. I won’t be long. An hour or so at most.”
She nodded in response before shifting her attention back to the book she’d been reading, and Harry apparated away, arriving in Diagon Alley only a moment later, immediately concealing himself within his cloak.
It was empty for the most part with only the dim lights of Gringotts illuminating the far end of the street.
Most of the other shops were closed, and it was a tall, garishly painted building he stopped in front of, slinking into the adjoining alley before knocking on the rear door of the premises.
Removing his cloak and pocketing it, he was greeted by one of the twins as it opened, though he did not know which one it was. Mrs Weasley had always struggled to tell her own sons apart, so Harry had no chance.
“Ah, Harry,” the redhead greeted him with a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “You got Ron’s letter.”
“I did,” he confirmed as he stepped into the rear of the shop whilst the twin scanned the alley before closing the door behind them. “I’m surprised this place hasn’t been shut down yet.”
“I’d like to see the gits try.”
Harry wouldn’t fancy attempting to do so.
For the most part, Fred and George’s pranks were harmless enough, but he did not doubt the two of them had come up with some ingenious methods of keeping people out of the shop they did not want inside.
“Ron said something about wanting my help with something.”
The twin nodded grimly as he opened another door and ushered Harry inside, where Ron and the other twin was waiting.
“Harry!” the former greeted him enthusiastically, almost relieved to see him, pulling him into a tight embrace.
“You’re working here now?”
“Well, sort of. I’m helping out with the mail order stuff,” Ron answered sheepishly.
Harry suspected there was much more to it, and the awkward silence that followed did not lessen that suspicion.
“What are you up to?” he sighed. “You didn’t ask me here for a chat, did you?”
The three looked at one another before one of the twins locked the door with a flick of his wand and tapped the table in the middle of the room with it.
A large roll of parchment appeared, a map of sorts that Harry recognised immediately.
“Knockturn Alley,” he acknowledged, eliciting a nod from the twins. “You’re planning something.”
“We might be.”
Harry shook his head.
“Bloody hell, I’m not your dad. What is it you’re doing?”
One of the twins handed him a piece of parchment, and as he read through it, Harry nodded, though he was rather taken aback by the intent behind it.
“It will work, well, theoretically it will, but maybe not as you hope. Innocent people could be caught up in this if it goes wrong.”
“It won’t go wrong.”
Harry wasn’t completely certain that was so, and he handed back the piece of parchment.
“So, what do you need from me?”
“Somewhere to use it. We’re not just going to drop it in the middle of Knockturn Alley, not if it could backfire.”
“You want somewhere where there will be Death Eaters.”
“Exactly.”
Harry already knew the twins and Ron would not be deterred from their course of action, but he knew for a fact that Mr and Mrs Weasley would never approve of this. Not that he intended to inform Arthur of what three of his sons were up to.
No, whatever they decided to do was up to them. SO long as they understood the consequences they would need to live with, it wasn’t his place to attempt to talk them out of it.
“I will see what I can come up with,” he assured them.
Maybe they would change their minds before he could do so, but he doubted it. All three of them seemed to be determined.
“There is one other thing,” Ron broke in awkwardly, pulling open the door of a cupboard in the corner of the room, revealing an unfamiliar man who was tied to a chair.
Harry had not seen him before, but the mark on his forearm was unmistakeable.
A Death Eater.
They’d taken and imprisoned a Death Eater, who was looking up at Harry fearfully, undoubtedly knowing who it was standing before him.
“Well, you can’t just let him go,” Harry sighed, his gaze coming to rest on the frightened man’s, “and he doesn’t know anything worth knowing. The mark is recent, so he likely only met Voldemort when he received it. “What’s your name?”
With a flick of his wand, the gag was removed, and the heavily breathing man coughed a few times.
“Yaxley. Carver Yaxley.”
Harry nodded.
“Well, Carver Yaxley, today is your lucky day. You’re not going to die, but you will be coming with me. I have the perfect place to ensure you cannot make anyone’s life a misery, but the same cannot be said for yours. Maybe soon enough you will wish you were dead.”
Yaxley’s eyes widened as Harry re-applied the gag before securing him further and stunning him.
“I’ll be in touch when I find somewhere for you,” he assured the twins and Ron.
“Where are you taking him?” Fred or George asked.
“Just somewhere he can’t be a burden,” Harry answered as he took hold of Yaxley and apparated away.
He’d been meaning to gather his first prisoner to keep the protections around Nurmengard powered, and as it happened, he’d just been handed the very first of what he suspected would be many more to come.
Well, that wasn’t necessarily so.
As far as Harry was concerned, a good Death Eater was a dead one but should taking them prove to be to his advantage, he would do just that.
For some of them, at least, Death was too easy an escape, and he would sooner see them suffer than be granted an eternal peace. No, Death wasn’t for all, not when most should suffer in misery before Death was given his due.
The very thought brought an anticipatory smile to his lips.
“Come Death, come,” he murmured, “but only when I’m ready for you.”
The magic flowing through his veins responded with an icy pulse of approval, and Harry murmured his appreciation as he looked up towards the impressive construct of Nurmengard.
Not so long ago, it had housed the man who’d built it, and now, it would be used for the purpose he’d done so; holding the many enemies of the one who controlled it. Yaxley would be only the first.
Soon enough, he would have company.