A Strange Old World Ch.22 (Patreon)

Disclaimer: I don't own anything.

Chapter 22—A New Start

AN: Beta'd by Basilisk and Kaladin1707!

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The Morning of 1st September saw the Potter family—along with Bella and Delacours—making their way through the crowd, ever so cautious. Their faces were hidden beneath notice-me-nots and powerful charms to change their hair color.

If one wanted a glimpse of the grimness that gripped the country now, they need only look at the wizards delivering their children on platform 9¾. The ever-present murmuring of the crowd that Harry had once dearly missed was completely absent now. Wizards went about their task in a hushed and hurried manner, treating what would normally be a joyous—though somewhat bittersweet—occasion as something to be fearful about…almost as if a bunch of Death Eaters might pop out any minute to start spreading chaos. Some were even shielding their young ones beneath their cloaks—their trunks dragging behind them carelessly—hiding their faces as if the simple action of being recognized might put them at risk.

Though they need not have worried so much. It was their lucky day, for the Potter family shared their concerns and Harry wasn’t willing to put their lives at any kind of risk. Thus, exercising his authority as the Head of Aurors, he’d placed a squadron of level five Duelers to cover every corner of the station, recognizing this day as a potentially hazardous one.

Even though he suspected nothing would actually come of it—after all, Voldemort should be more worried about licking his wounds clean rather than targeting a train station—it was the principle of the matter.

A loud, steamy honk from the Hogwarts express announced its departure time, making the Potter family hasten their pace. As they crossed families and children, Harry gave a discrete look around the King’s cross station, nodding at his disguised Aurors. Most carried with them the latest edition of Daily Prophet, its first page once again dominated by the events that took place a couple days prior. Though Aurors weren’t the only ones still reading up on the events. Most of the idle people on the station carried with them an edition of the newspaper, smiles on their faces even in these dark times.

If there was one thing that could cut through the grimness of war, it was the news of victory. And even through war, people found their own little ways to celebrate the small victories. Harry’s favorite by far was a bunch of witches burning effigies of Death Eaters in the middle of Diagon Alley.

There was just something powerful in seeing your enemies being so casually defied.

Another shrill whistle from the train refocused Harry’s attention, and the family finally reached their target.

‘Right on time.’ A ghostly smile twisted Harry’s lips up as his eyes took in the familiar, yet strangely distant scene.

For his Slytherin self, it was just a few months ago that the unforgettable blood-red train had graced his eyes. For Harry however, it may as well have been a lifetime since he’d partaken in the services of Hogwarts express.

‘Scratch that, it has been a lifetime ago since I last stood on this platform.’

It was a grand shame indeed that the amount of time since he’d traveled on the train would simply have to increase further, for he wouldn’t be sharing the express with Lily and his siblings today. His position as the Head of Aurors left him too much to do in too little a time to afford a train ride.

Plus, he’d also decided to pay temporary goodbye to Fleur and Gabrielle, both of whom would also be returning to Beauxbatons today.

Surprisingly, when he’d revealed this to his new family, all three of his fellow Potters had been wroth at his decision, and only the fact that he would be dropping the Delacour sisters to their station next got through their pretty heads.

Their protests had left him confusedly grinning. It was just a few hours after all. He would've expected Lily to make a little fuss perhaps—after all, it was her decision to travel with the family this time, and he’d just gone ahead and ruined it—but to see his sisters vehemently demanding his presence had certainly been…unexpected, to say the least. Quite endearing, and taking a huge weight off of his shoulders, but surprising all the same.

‘To think a simple heart-to-heart was all it needed to get them to accept me…’

On the last night before their end of holidays, Harry had finally accepted the needling from Bella—and surprisingly, Apolline—to have a talk with his sisters. There had been a few tears at first, and some hurtful accusations that left him tongue-twisted, but the end product had been both of his sisters wrapped under his arms as they bawled their eyes out. He'd long since thought that he’d lost his sisters due to replacing James and Jacob…but never in a lifetime would he have suspected it was his own inactions that were causing the cracks in their relationship.

He truly hadn’t expected a single talk to soothe his sisters’ hearts—and he suspected Fleur and Gabrielle of having played a part—but he was glad to count them as a proper family now. He may not consider Lily his true mother, but nothing could stop him from treating the girls like sisters he’d never had.

Not even the logical conclusion that he couldn’t count them as sisters if he was unwilling to see Lily as a mother.

Though it did come along with its own shares of annoying— and quite endearing—set of problems.

“Can’t you join us after dropping Gabby and Fleur, please?” Little Rose tugged at his sleeves, not for the first time in the past hour, while the rest of his family—including the Delacours—came to a quick halt upon reaching the train.

Still holding her hand, Harry looked down at his little sister, her red hair temporarily changed to brown to blend in with the crowd. He knew it wouldn't work for long, they were all simply too famous for that, but it had done the job of delivering them to Hogwarts express without causing a ruckus.

Smiling apologetically, he gently squeezed his sister’s hand. “Tell you what, sis. You remember what I told you last night? Well… keep your promise to me, and I’ll pick you up on the other side.”

Rose nodded grudgingly. “Okie.”

"Oh yeah, we remember all about your precious plans." Dorea snarked from behind him. "Don’t worry, we won’t tell anyone, dad. Thanks."

Rose snickered.

Harry sighed.

"Come on, girls. Don't bully your brother." Lily came to his rescue...before her giggle revealed her true sinister intentions. "There will be plenty of time for that in the castle."

"Why do I even hope?" Harry asked to the heavens, ignoring the amused ladies.

The throng of people entering the train had lessened a lot, and Harry quickly picked up their luggage without trouble, placing it past the doors. The ladies selected the fourth carriage to settle in, dumping their luggage in, before coming back out for the last farewells.

He stood on his lonesome, a little distance back from the two groups of females; Bella, Apolline, and Lily whispering amongst themselves, shooting him an occasional glance or two, while Fleur and Gabby paid a tearful goodbye to their new friends.

For all his complaints though, he couldn't help but feel a novel joy warming his chest.

“Remember, you two. Don’t discuss what we talked about last night unless you’re alone. I’ll join you all in Hogwarts.” Were his last words of farewell to the group before the train departed from the King’s Cross station, leaving them behind; waving.

For some reason, Harry felt quite downtrodden as his fellow Potters disappeared away in a trail of smoke. ‘I should’ve been with them today.’

Even though he knew they would be reuniting again mere eight hours later, he couldn’t help but feel he’d lost something vital by missing this particular chance.

‘Well…next time, perhaps.’ He could only hope fate would be kind enough to drop another bonding opportunity in his lap.

Sighing, he turned around and cast a quick Tempus, before glancing at the Delacours. “Alright, our Portkey goes off in five minutes, recheck your luggage and see if you’ve missed anything.”

They were starting to attract a crowd now. With the station now almost completely empty, their group stuck out like royalty in the midst of peasants.

He wanted to be gone as soon as possible. Especially as the disguised Aurors took their leave, having been ordered to go and secure Hogwarts for the rest of the day.

“Are you sure you’ll be safe in France, Harry?” Bella asked quietly, coming to stand beside him.

He shrugged. “They can try whatever they want, I doubt it’ll work. Worse comes to worst, I’ll cut a bloody path straight back to England.”

Bella chuckled. “And there you go underestimating human greed again. I didn’t mean they’ll attack you, Harry. Merlin no, that’ll be a massive political suicide. But there are a lot of ways they can make your life difficult, without intending to. Do you want me to come along?”

“Oh, I very much do.” Harry chuckled, wiggling his eyebrows at the woman. “Though not for the reasons you might be thinking. Alas, a busy maiden like you would never accompany me for the pleasure of my company.”

An elbow suddenly buried itself in his stomach…but the hit was so soft that he couldn’t help but turn to the perpetrator with a raised brow and a smirk. “Yes? Do you disagree? Perhaps you do want to come along then, eh?”

“Why are you so infuriating?” Bella bemoaned, shaking her head.

“It’s part of the charm, honey.” Harry winked. “Now c’mon, be a good girl and kiss me goodbye.”

He extended his cheek but only received another punch to the stomach, though this one was even lighter. Probably because the hitter refused to look at him, hiding behind her lock of black hair.

He could’ve sworn he got a glimpse of blushing red rapidly rising all over her pretty neck but he couldn’t be sure.

“Oh well, if you won’t…” He closed the distance between them, took her in his arms—ignoring her surprised squawk —and kissed her firmly on her brows. “It's goodbye for now, I’m afraid. Though maybe I’ll meet you in the Ministry today?”

She huffed halfheartedly, and Harry slowly pushed a few strands of her hair away.

‘Yeah, she’s definitely blushing.’

“I know I haven’t fulfilled my promise yet.” He whispered against her ears, his lips brushing against her cheeks. “I just need some time, alright? I’ll tell you everything soon.”

Bella managed a shaky nod, her entire body frozen still.

‘Ok, maybe I was a little too direct in a public place.’

He removed his hands from her waist, stepping back.

Giving a last wave, he turned around and removed the Portkeyed watch from his pocket.

“You lot ready?” He asked, glancing up.

He was surprised to see Apolline watching him and Bella like a hawk, a glimmer of something unexplainable shining in her crystalline blue eyes as she nodded.

“Very well. Let’s get going then.”

It was time to grace France with his humble personage.

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‘Please…help…help me!’ Juliette Laurent closed her eyes as the mangled man’s desperate cries ringed in her ears, the scene of that dreadful night playing out in her mind’s eye once more. She remembered it all; the smell of his burnt flesh, the blood dripping from his battered body; minced and crushed beneath the piles of other dead, his entrails hanging from his torn stomach…it was enough to make anyone puke their guts out without feeling ashamed.

Juliette shivered, trying to push the memories down as her stomach began churning. It was difficult of course. It always was. Even with actively practicing Occlumency, the chances of success were low and most of the time she would end up being mercilessly tortured by the ghosts of that day.

That day, also known as the Red Hour for those who lived through it…or the Black Day for the spectators who hadn’t witnessed the red carnage of that hour. Two weeks it had been, yet the stench of blood, sweat, and horror clogged her nose whenever her mind wandered towards it…

And she remembered it all. So very clearly.

They’d been caught off-guard like new recruits. Pincered by the panicking crowd and those cloak wearing hooligans—just like the rest of the Auror squads; crushed beneath the boots of the people they were meant to protect. And amidst the panic, hysteria, and confusion, they’d lost control of the situation completely, responding poorly to the threat. For all their talks and vows of bravery, her team, led by a British Auror, had scattered just like the rest.

‘As had all the other Auror squads.’ Including her fellow French-wizards.

Juliette had counted herself amongst the lucky ones to have survived the night. When their savior came to save them—selflessly attracting the attention of those blasted Death Eaters—she’d rejoiced like a child at a fair. ‘I won’t die here!’ she’d cheered in her mind, jubilant. ‘My children won’t be motherless! My husband won’t be a widower!’ Oh if only she’d known.

The crowd had parted for their savior like welcoming a king, showering upon him more respect than any Auror team could hope to receive. Yet, Juliette hadn’t been jealous. How could she be? Out of the whole group, she alone had survived, she alone would return to see her family’s faces, she alone would be hailed as the survivor of battle that would no doubt be captured in the history pages…and it was all thanks to their savior; Harry Potter.

Yes, she’d felt quite lucky then.

…And then the situation calmed down, and the British Ministry unearthed the bodies of her husband and two children from beneath the pile of dead, shattering her life like a cracked mirror. She hadn’t felt so lucky then.

Now, only she and her eight year old daughter remained out of the family of five.

The last fact brought it with a pain and emptiness so strong that Juliette physically recoiled. She clenched her hands tight, gritting her teeth to stubbornly keep the tears at bay.

Aurors don’t cry on jobs. Especially not on jobs they’d fought tooth and nail to get, all against the wishes of their superiors. And if the said superiors caught her crying now of all times, they’d instantly ban her from this mission, and probably force her to take an extended leave.

Juliette usually didn’t make a habit of arguing against the wishes of her superiors, but she simply could not bear to sit around moping because others thought her too weak to handle a couple of deaths.

A ‘couple of deaths’ that belong to your husband and children…

She winced.

But more than that, she couldn’t miss this mission for anything. It meant a lot to her…a chance to thank her savior.

She may have spent the first few days since the incident stupidly blaming Harry Potter for not arriving quickly enough, but she knew she owed the boy a debt unlike any.

Had he not come at all, her daughter would’ve been an orphan now. Or worse, dead.

Just the thought of losing her little princess made the hollowness in her heart become even more acute.

No. She refused to let her daughter die. Her last family, the one ray of light in the utter darkness…she wouldn’t lose her for anything.

But to ensure her survival, the Dark Lords must be gone. And for the Dark Lords to go, Harry Potter must succeed.

And she would help in any way she can.

A sudden knock to her door broke her out of her reverie, and Juliette quickly wiped her eyes for any drop of tears.

“Senior Auror Laurent?” Came the beckoning call. “It’s time. They’re waiting for you.”

“Coming!” Juliette replied, a little annoyed at the hitch in her voice.

She scanned herself in the mirror quickly, looking for any tear-stains. Thankfully, there were none. Giving a last determined nod to herself, she took a deep, calming breath and bounded for the door.

The messenger had already disappeared by the time she left her room, heading deeper down the corridor to alert the rest of her team.

Juliette didn’t bother waiting, and made her way to the briefing room, passing by the Lonely Window, which has always been their sole means to view the outside world.

The Auror office was located on the third floor of the French Ministry Headquarters. The rooms were lined up in two straight rows on both sides of a single long corridor—wide enough to fit the full height of an average man—housing almost every individual Auror the French currently possessed, except the Head Auror and his or her second in command.

As she rounded a corner, she came upon two other Aurors directly in front of her—both she suspected of being her teammates for the mission—laughing and joking as they traced the same path as her.

“You know the best part of the mission, Mec?” The smaller one asked, and she belatedly placed the voice as belonging to Crisper.

The other one was more easily recognized; taller than average, with a slender build and quiet disposition, Blanchet was well known for his adequacy.

“Camille Moulin’s leading us all!” Crisper barked excitedly, still unaware of her presence. “You know, the hot chick with big tits everyone’s been crowing about—“

Juliette wrinkled her nose in distaste, barely stopping herself from marching ahead to flay the man’s skin. Moulin was interesting enough that she couldn’t help but lend her ears to the conversation, no matter how much the tiny man made her want to deliver a good smack to his bald head.

Crisper might be a little stupid, and infuriatingly perverted, but he had a tendency of poking his nose where it doesn’t belong—mostly in the business of higher authorities—making him a wonderful source of information.

“Guess what? She just became a level six Dueler!”

“I heard that.” Blanchet replied, nodding. “Maximoff says it’s to give her more experience but you and I know that’s a load of bull. She may be a prodigy and all, but the higher ups are pushing some convoluted agenda, mark my words. Meeting Potter ain’t something you can treat like a practice mission.”

‘True that.’

Yet, Juliette couldn’t help but frown. It would seem she had missed much more of the Ministry’s on-goings than she’d originally believed. She may not have been as involved with the politics in the last two weeks as she’d normally be, but the sole fact that no one had even bothered to inform her that there were deeper objectives to this mission stung her pride. At the height of her career, there was a point where she was being seriously considered for the Head Auror’s position. And now she had to gather information from a banter between grunts?

It was downright insulting.

Could her two weeks break really push her position down so much?

No…if anything, she should’ve received a promotion for being the only French Auror to survive the night.

‘Something fishy is going on in the Ministry. And it definitely involves Harry Potter or the two Dark Lords.’ Most things do nowadays.

Up ahead, Crisper tsked. “Does it matter? We’re going on a mission with Busty Moulin!”

Juliette cringed back, sheer indignation breaking her angst. ‘This stupid worm.’

“You came up with that yourself, didn’t you?” Blanchet snorted. “There’s no way anyone’s calling her that.”

“They are!” Crisper insisted, looking offended. “And it’s true anyway. Now come on before the old man starts making moves on her. We gotta protect our juniors, you know?”

Having heard enough, Juliette quickly closed the distance and cleared her voice. “I take it you’re behaving well, boys?”

Both the men jumped out of their skins, quickly whirling around with hands on their wands.

Juliette suppressed a smile.

“Woah there, who—? Oh! Madam Laurent!” Crisper chuckled nervously. “Uhh…shouldn’t you already be in the briefing room?”

Her eyes narrowed, pinning him under her death glare. “As should you two.”

She was a tad bit disappointed on how quickly both of them regained their composure.

“We were awaiting confirmation for the mission, ma’am.” Blanchet answered quietly, both assuming an attentive position. “Auror Rudder said the mission needs people with…specific skill sets. We weren’t really sure we would be selected until the notice came.”

“Yeah…I’m still surprised!” Crisper chuckled sheepishly. “No one’s ever accused me of being ‘Impressive looking’ you see? Don’t know how I managed to check that requirement. Not that I’m complaining!”

‘Impressive looking, huh?’ She filed in the back of her mind.

“I see.” She grunted. “In any case, take care how you speak. Moulin is your senior now, I doubt she’d appreciate your ‘protection’—”

“Bah! Semantics.” The words left Crisper’s mouth a moment before he slapped his hand on it, instant regret flashing in his eyes.

Juliette continued, unheeding. “And she can, and will, put you on Dementor searching duties if you let her hear that.”

Both the men shuddered.

“Uh…surely no one can be that cruel, ma’am?” Blanchet asked.

“Honestly, I don’t know why we’re cleaning others' mess.” Crisper muttered hesitantly. “Those English wizards should’ve known to control their creatures.”

“The Light Lord did what he needed to.” Blanchet protested, his head whipping around to face his partner with a scowl. “You can’t expect perfection from everyone.”

“’The Light Lord’.” Crisper laughed mockingly. “You can just call him Potter, you know? I’m so ashamed that one of us believes in that nonsense.”

Juliette pushed down the urge to scowl, her tone completely neutral as she asked, “You doubt him?”

Crisper shrugged. “I’m sure he’s a terrific dueler for his age, but I’m also sure the events of that night are exaggerated. One of my friends—who witnessed the fight for himself—claimed the boy had support from many, and it was actually his mother, Lily Potter, who sheared through Grindelwald’s defense. Now that’s someone I’d worship wholeheartedly hehehe…”

The dreamily lecherous smile that was just starting to spread on his face was wiped clean off when Juliette’s palm met his cheeks with an audible splat.

“You will reign your attitude in front of him, Crisper.” She commanded coldly. “Or I will have you suspended right now.”

“Yes, Ma’am.” All the humor drained out of him as he rubbed his cheek, wincing slightly. “Don’t you worry, I’m gonna kiss the ground that he walks on. Am not stupid enough to insult him to his face.”

She kept her eyes trained on him for a few more seconds before finally giving a nod. “Come. We’ve wasted enough time.”

She could see his eyes jump, a snarky ‘And who’s fault is that?’ on his tongue, but he was smart enough to swallow it down and fall in line next to his partner.

When they reached the briefing room, they found the rest of their group already assembled inside, sharing the same subject of conservation.

“Rumor has it that Potter’s banging half his household. You know the Delacours and Black? They say they live with him just for one thing…that Potter juice…”

“Lucky bastard.”

“Careful, mec,'' one of the older Aurors chuckled. “His little fans will tear you a new one if they hear you disrespecting their messiah.”

The mocking tone grated on her nerves something fierce, and it took a solid second of deep breaths before Juliette calmed herself. While she would have normally been more vocal in her defense of Harry Potter, it caught her a little off-guard to see Old man Vanduc being the slanderer.

“You don’t like Potter either, Old man?” Crisper joined them with an impish grin, a triumphant glint in his eyes as he glanced at her.

She stared back coldly. Arguing with idiots was a fool’s job.

“I like the kid.” Vanduc shrugged. “I like what he stands for. But I don’t like this worshiping the people are giving him. That never works out well. No man is god.”

“You two have no fucking clue what you’re talking about.” Blanchet scowled, fuming, a hand inching towards his wand. “My parents are alive today solely because of him. He is ten times the man you both could ever hope to be.”

Crisper and Old man shared a grimaced glance, their mockeries subduing at the potentially violent situation. She was a touch surprised to see the quiet Blanchet being so out of bounds right now, but she could completely understand.

It takes little to judge a man, the hard part comes in understanding him.

“We’re not saying he doesn’t deserve his due credit, Mec.” Old man said gently. “It’s just…the amount of trust people are placing on him is ridiculous. Maybe he is a young merlin, and maybe he can defeat the Dark Lords…eventually. But we’re far away from the time. He’s what? Fifteen? Sixteen? He’ll need at least a decade of knowledge and experience to stand anywhere near Grindelwald’s level. And I say a decade with all the hopes I can realistically put on him. Placing such expectations on his inexperienced shoulders will do more harm than good.”

Crisper nodded. “It’ll break his back is what it’ll do.”

“So what?” Juliette finally found herself voicing her thoughts, no longer able to keep quiet. “People are scared, Old man. Unlike you and me, they can’t defend themselves. They need someone to trust. Someone who can be their defender. And Harry Potter has risen up to be that someone. Not you, not me, certainly not any of the Ministries, but a boy who owes us nothing, a boy who’d already defeated a Dark Lord when he was a child. Could you really blame the people for their zeal?”

Silence descended on their group, and it never received the chance to leave as their squad leader finally arrived.

Young, charming, and dressed to…impress, Moulin certainly cut a striking figure as a young leader.

“We leave in two.” She announced without preamble, maintaining an iron-focus. “Harry Potter’s Portkey will go off in a minute. We have to be there to welcome him.”

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And welcome him they did. But not in the way they were expecting.

Harry Potter and his group had Portkeyed at a warded open ground just south of Aéroport de Cannes-Mandelieu. As the only male in the group, it was easy to recognize him almost immediately. But even had that not been so, he would’ve still stuck out from any crowd. The way he’d landed in a crouch at the moment of his arrival, his wand at ready, cold eyes scanning for ambush…she knew they weren’t facing a child. Raw experience was one thing you cannot fake; the knowledge of exactly what corners to scan, what magic to look out for, how to make yourself a smaller target for a potential ambush…it was something only an experienced Auror could replicate, and she knew her fellow Aurors agreed with her.

Even Crisper and Vanduc shared a glance with frowning brows as The-Boy-Who-Lived straightened up. She was a touch surprised to note the elder Delacours were copying his caution as well, but it wasn’t too unexpected. Fleur Delacour was widely known throughout France as the one who fought alongside their savior.

“Lord Potter.” Moulin wasted no time in greetings, removing a glove and extending an arm forward, the back of her naked hand staring at Potter.

Juliette’s eyes twitched. ‘So that’s the game the Ministry wants to play…’

Potter didn’t show any surprise, smoothly leaning down to brush his lips at the back of her hand. “Well met, miss…?”

He straightened up, his eyes—the color of shining emerald gems—coming to stare into Moulin’s soul.

…And their leader for the day lost her bearings.

“Uhh, C-Camilla.” She stuttered, a deep blush extending down her collarbone. “Camilla Moulin, but you can call me Camilla.”

Juliette closed her eyes. ‘Get a grip, girl!’

Normally she wouldn't be annoyed at her; Harry Potter was definitely worthy of being blushed over. She doubted she'd be any better had she been Moulin's age. Even though the boy wasn’t trying to be charming—with no smile on his face, and eyes as suspicious as ever—there was no denying that he looked way past his age. Had she not been studying him in detail ever since that day, she never would’ve guessed him to be a fourteen year old.

‘A potion perhaps?’ She wondered, her eyes snapping open to stare at the boy. ‘Or just impressive genes?’

Whatever the case, the point remained. Harry Potter was every maiden’s dream come true and she normally wouldn’t begrudge Moulin her moment of shyness.

But these weren't normal times. There were specific reasons that they were selected to represent the French Auror corps, and she doubted blushing and stuttering was one of them.

‘Why was this girl even allowed to lead them?’

She couldn’t rightly guess.

Well...that was a lie. She definitely could guess.

The most probable reason? Their Minister was hoping to form closer bonds with Potter. Considering that he was single, and without any betrothal, it made sense to try and trap the boy with the cold classic tactic; teenage love.

Hell, she even suspected Moulin was given this urgent promotion to level six for the sole reason to lead them…and to have something in common with Potter: both were young, attractive, prodigies, and finally—Auror commanders…yes, she could see where this was going.

And yet, while the girl was talented, she was no Harry Potter. But she was beautiful, and like Crisper bragged, had a figure Julieta would’ve once been incredibly jealous of. And perhaps that was what her superiors were counting on.

It annoyed Juliette a great deal but there was nothing to be done. ‘Politics…it all comes down to stupid politics in the end.’

At least she could take some pleasure in knowing they’d failed horribly. Harry Potter hadn’t smiled a single time since his arrival.

“Well, Miss Moulin.” Potter addressed their leader. “If you can guide us to our destination now?”

And so they did.

They led the group past the airport, coming to a stop in front of a wall full of inconspicuous looking crystal plates shining under the sun. But the wizards and witches of France knew; it was always the seventh plate from the right.

“This part of the wall separates the muggle world from the magical, Mr. Potter.” Camille informed him, sticking her hand into the silver crystalline plate which passed right through it as if it were made of smoke. “You simply need to surrender to its magic and it shall grant you access.”

“Very well.” Potter nodded. “You first.”

Juliette suppressed an urge to laugh at Moulin’s disappointed face.

There was simply no way for her to deny the command without harming her objective. And so they entered the crystal wall, half of them unaware of the game their superiors were trying to play, the other half uncaring, too enamored by Harry Potter to pay any attention elsewhere.

Most wished to strike a conversation with him, Luciette knew, and she wasn’t an exception. But they’d been strictly warned against taking any actions beyond the scope of the mission…and to trust Moulin explicitly.

She was forced to accept the first order but she would never follow the latter.

Even as they entered the French equivalent of Platform 9 ¾—something she would love to visit one day—Luciette couldn’t help but lament the lost opportunity to thank her savior.

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'Beautiful.'

Harry's eyes lost themselves within the magic of the land that greeted him. Unlike platform nine and three quarters, the magical airport was completely open and unroofed, with healthy rays of morning sun falling upon the grounds, lighting the whole place up.

Dozens of pastel blue carriages were parked in a neat line, all being pulled by twelve beautiful winged horses. People were milling around the grounds, with crowds of Beauxbatons students claiming their carriages and leaving the earth for the vastness of skies. There didn't seem to be a fixed schedule for all the carriages to travel together, so the skies never felt crowded by the horses.

After experiencing the gloominess of King's cross station, he felt like he'd entered a whole new world, where people still retained a semblance of freedom and joy.

"Impressed?" He felt an elbow bump into him lightly.

Glancing to the side, his eyes met the deep blue laughing orbs of Fleur as she gave him a brilliant smile.

"A little bit." He admitted grudgingly, letting himself surrender to the lightness of this place.

He was soon about to go back to the grim and dreary England anyway, what was the harm in enjoying himself a little?

"C'mon..." Fleur grabbed his hand while Apolline and Gabby followed them at a more sedate pace, all of them ignoring the contingent of Aurors spread around them. "I'll show you all of my favorite carriages!"

Laughing, Harry joined the excited girl.

"Lord Potter, please allow me to—" Started the French Auror leader, only to stop short when Fleur abruptly turned around, giving one of the most vilest glares he'd ever witnessed to Auror Moulin, before proceeding to ignore her completely.

"Come." She tugged at him again, the glare replaced by a small grin.

‘What was that?’ Harry blinked, letting himself be dragged to the rightmost carriage.

Fleur gave him a quick tour of the ground, taking from carriage to carriage, and showing him the beauty of the winged-horses—who Harry dubbed as the better-looking cousins of Thestrals—ignoring all the other students who seemed to recognize her immediately, unlike him, whose face they probably never saw apart from a newspaper.

Unfortunately, it was only a matter of time before he was recognized and his name spread throughout the magical airport, forcing the Delacour siblings to quickly select an empty carriage before the crowd could overwhelm them.

"You'll be at Hogwarts when we come, right?" Fleur asked him hesitantly.

"Of course, I will."

She looked like she wanted to say more, but she simply settled on extending her hand forward.

Harry snorted, wrinkling his nose, and pulled her in a tight hug, ignoring her startled gasp.

"After these two month, you won't ever have to be alone." He promised her, her sweet scent filling his head with dreams of summer.

She felt so very delicate in his arms; a true divine princess whose affections he'd somehow won. His mind couldn't help but re-live the moment when she'd kissed him, feeling the softness of her lips against his. It felt like a lifetime ago, and he couldn’t help wanting to refresh the memory…

He pulled his face back slightly, turning to stare into her electrifying eyes, her awe and need reflecting inside his chest, their nose almost touching as her breath warmed his neck...

'Should I?'

He let himself lean into her, their lips meeting each other, brushing softly…

A throat cleared beside him, and he remembered he wasn't quite alone here. A few hoots called out from their gathered audience and he forced himself to release Fleur from his embrace—her face a flaming red; holy fuck, she’s so beautiful!—and glanced at a very unamused Apolline.

Harry shrugged. “Not my fault, her beauty is a sin in itself.”

Fleur ran inside the carriage, and his heart clenched in sheer disappointment.

Feeling a tug at his robes, Harry glanced down to find Gabby extending both of her hands at him, her cheeks puffed up in annoyance.

"And you too, little one." Chuckling, he picked her up. "You’re just as pretty.”

Apolline came up beside him, giving a quick farewell to her children.

The crowd had grown a lot now, and he knew it was about time for the paparazzi to show up.

"Apolline, we need to go." He called out to the woman.

Nodding, she wiped at her cheeks, startling him a little with the wetness, before backing out to wave as the horses took off into the air, dragging the carriage along.

The Aurors were doing their job of holding back the crowd now, and Harry quickly grasped Apolline's hand.

"Ready?"

“Of course.” The woman nodded. But while her face might’ve as well been carved through marble, her voice was subdued enough to let him know her sadness.

They grasped at the authorized Portkey, it's time already set to match their escape.

A moment before they could vanish away, one of the Aurors broke out from the group. “Mr. Potter!”

Harry turned, raising an eyebrow. “Yes?”

The Auror was a young woman, probably in her late twenties; wearing the typical French Auror uniform. She had a severe beauty to her, especially now as she looked at him in pure determination, a tear in her eye.

“Thank you.” She whispered. “You saved my daughter that day. I will never forget what…I just…thank you.”

He liked her more than her leader already.

Harry smiled. “I’m glad I could be of help, miss…?”

“Laurent.” Her voice thick with relieved tears. “Luciette Laurent.”

Harry nodded. “I hope we meet again, Auror Laurent.” and vanished away from the airport, successfully escaping the rapidly escalating situation.

------------------------------------

With grave eyes flickering upon the pages beneath her, the Minister of Magical Britain sat back at her desk, quietly reading the report she'd received earlier from her head of DMLE.

'Threat level: 6 [Needs immediate action].

Our observations have revealed that Dementors prefer to form colonies rather than wandering individually. While they may hunt alone, they always return back to their nest. From the few Dementor nests that we've discovered, we can conclude that they mainly infest places with a dark history, particularly open grounds that are high in misery and despair. The three nests currently scattered around Britain include two muggle battlegrounds, and one village named Eyam. Each nest contains at least thirty of them and we've confirmed over seventeen muggles registered with the Dementor's kiss.'

Amelia closed her eyes for a second, feeling the inevitable onset of a headache.

'How on Morgan's dirty socks did I end up in this mess?'

She knew how of course, but complaining about it was the only thing she could do right now.

It had been a mere two days since their first big step in the war, and things were already going off the kilter. Detonating Azkaban in a fiery flower to lay a solid blow upon Voldemort and his minions had been an ambitious plan. Some might even say too ambitious, and she wasn't ashamed to admit that she'd counted herself as being one of them.

That did not mean she felt any happiness in being proven even slightly correct in her misgivings.

While Harry had exceeded her expectations by a large mile—successfully dealing a great blow to the dark Lord—he hadn't planned for the side effects fully. It wasn't truly his fault of course; he'd done the best one could with a timeframe of just two days. But the fact remained: the thing he'd unleashed upon the world was every bit as terrifying as Death Eaters.

And yet, she couldn’t blame him any more than she could blame herself. Perhaps it should’ve been common sense that blowing up Azkaban could have long reaching consequences, but its history had always been shrouded in mystery, giving them no chance to study it in detail. It was only a stroke of fortune that they’d found recorded studies on the fortress of Azkaban whilst scrambling to contain the creatures.

According to the records, before it was converted into a prison, the Fortress had homed one of the darkest wizards to ever exist; Ekrizdis. It was Ekrizdis who first discovered the island, Ekrizdis who built the Fortress, Ekrizdis who practiced the vilest magic under the safety of his Fortress. After his death—for all his darkness, he was still mortal—the various concealment charms upon the island came undone, showing the horrors birthed within it.

The Dementors.

Azkaban was the birthplace to the darkest creature the wizarding World had ever witnessed. Born from the misery and lingering despair of the muggle sailors that Ekrizdis experimented upon, the creatures knew only one home. To destroy it meant to turn its occupants homeless, freeing them from the only place they’d ever inhabited their entire lives.

And now, these homeless—as they'd found out the hard way—were more than happy to carve their new home through the souls of muggles and wizards alike.

Even worse—impossible though it seemed —was the fact that many had outright migrated to their neighboring countries, straining the already shaky relationship that they'd managed to cultivate with other countries.

The only good thing about this was that for some reason Barty Crouch Sn. had yet to pay her a visit to grouch and complain about making his job even more difficult.

But that, unfortunately, wasn’t much of a consolation.

Amelia sighed. 'This will need to be solved and fast.'

Every second the Dementors roamed the muggle neighborhoods threatened the secrecy and integrity of their community.

While she didn't doubt Bella's ability to deal with any situation, given time—something they were already pressed for—the simple fact that there was an acute lack of wizards who could cast a Patronus hindered their efforts to resolve the situation quickly.

There was only one other person she truly trusted to get the job done and unfortunately, he was going to attend his first day of school today...

"Minister?" Her secretary's voice beckoned her, giving her a brief reprieve from the stressful situation. "Mr. Potter is here."

Her hand, which had been in the process of picking her coat up, stilled in midair.

Amelia hesitated, glancing at herself. Assured in her privacy, she usually no longer bothered in dressing modestly. Her shirt was unbuttoned to free the burdens of her chest, the large tracts of land on display for any viewer. The underskirt she was wearing couldn’t even reach her knees, hugging the curves of her thighs snuggly, and baring her naked legs to the world…

Normally this would be where she quickly tugged her long-coat on, but it was Harry in the end…

‘There’s nothing of my body that he hasn’t seen already.’

She settled back down, refusing to give into the blush that was forcing its way up her neck.

"Send him in!" Amelia called out before she could doubt herself, focusing on the relief she felt at his unexpected visit.

‘Now I can dump this all in his lap and let him deal with it.'

The door opened almost instantly at her words, and the young man sauntered in with the easy charm and confidence that always shrouded his entire being.

"You know, I'd appreciate it if your secretary could just get out of the way when she sees me." Harry started as his greeting, before stopping, his eyes roaming her cleavage in casual appreciation. "It'll make my job a lot easier to…sneak in here, if you know what I mean."

Once again, Amelia struggled briefly to push down the rising heat on her ears and neck.

She shook her head in exasperation as the Potter Lord dragged a chair out without permission and made himself comfortable.

"Hello to you too, Harry." Amelia showed her teeth in a sarcastic smile. "Nice weather we have today."

"Naaah." He shook his head. "It's pouring like devil's piss outside."

She looked at him dryly. "Devil's piss? No, you know what? Forget it. Here, take a look at this."

The file of pages slid down the table towards him smoothly.

"Two days since our grand public announcement, and we've successfully managed to unleash a group of undying monsters on the hapless populace. Well done."

Harry frowned, quickly rounding the file to take a look.

She was surprised to see his frown easing up almost immediately, a muted glint of excitement brewing behind his eyes. "This is..."

He cleared his throat, and the excitement dimmed down. "Disastrous. Yes, very disastrous."

Amelia narrowed her eyes in suspicion. "You're planning something, aren't you?"

"Hmm?" He glanced up, eyebrows rising innocently. "What could you possibly mean?"

"Harry..." Amelia pinned him under a stern stare... predictably, it had no effect. "Just tell me, please? I don't want another Azkaban mess-up."

He shrugged. "I was just thinking perhaps it's time to properly research a more....permanent solution for the Dementors."

She blinked, the words 'But Dementors can't be killed!' almost out of her tongue before she swallowed them down. Arguing with Harry Potter was a waste of time.

"Just..." She hesitated. "Take care of it, alright? I really can't deal with a new problem erupting now. Everything is happening too fast, and I'm doing my best to keep floating above the pressure."

He looked startled at that, genuine surprise splashing on his face. "Wait, what else is happening?"

Amelia snorted contemptuously, miffed at the ignorance. "You'd know that if you ever bother to visit your new office. The reports are still rotting on your desk."

"Well..." He smirked, pointedly glancing down. "I'd rather hear from your pretty lips."

Amelia felt her ears warming as his eyes dipped much lower than her lips. She tried to give him her practiced glare but it simply wasn’t willing to form right now.

His smirk widened even more.

"Fine." She huffed, leaning back as she acquiesced. "Hmm, where to start...? Alright first, know that Grindelwald has added another country to his conquest. We've received quite a few requests for support, as have other countries no doubt, but I doubt anything will come off of it. It took Dumbledore's speech at ICW for us to even have a chance of securing other countries' support. And this for an event they all had a vested interest in. I'm pretty sure Grindelwald will conquer the whole of America if something drastic doesn't happen."

Harry grunted, his eyes closed. "We can't care for them now."

"No." Amelia sighed. "No, we can't. What we do have to care for though...." She dragged the file back from him, turning the pages quickly. "Is the sudden surge of tourists. I really hadn't thought anyone would even dare to step into this country in times like these. But it looks like your popularity drains people's common sense out of their heads. I've received no less than seven requests from schools all around the globe to participate in the upcoming Tri-Wizard tournament. Or well, Quad-Wizard now, with Ilvermorny's addition. And while I don't want to add another one, I'm having a real hard time refusing Uagadou, considering their stellar reputation. Plus, we owe them a great deal for the help their Headmaster gave us."

"Oh pleeeease don't do that." Harry stressed vehemently. "Adding Ilvermorny has already changed things too much. I mean, ah, for us to plan correctly. Just tell them the tasks have already been formed or something. And it's too late to change things now. Oh, and the Goblet of fire has been set already...yeah, that's the most believable one."

Amelia eyes him for a long moment, wondering where his sudden request was coming from.

"Fine." She shook her head. "Alright. Well, you'll be happy to know that I've put Tonks on Permanent Hogwarts duty this year.” She tried to say so without letting jealousy infect her tone but considering the amusedly raised eyebrows, she probably failed. “Unfortunately I can't do the same for Stella. She's still undergoing Auror training."

Harry nodded slowly. "That's a shame. I almost thought she's good enough to deserve a level six badge. Though that could just be my pride speaking. She did give me a decent challenge."

"Oh, she is." Amelia readily agreed. "She came close to defeating Shacklebolt yesterday. She also seems to have limited control over Elements, and that alone puts her on Longbottom's level. Not a true Elementalist, but with great potential."

"Why's she not an Auror then?"

"She's still completing Auror training." Amelia reiterated exasperatedly. "There's more to being an Auror than Dueling, you know?"

Harry shrugged. "No, I don't. You just made me their boss for being powerful and famous."

"A lot more than just powerful and famous." Amelia muttered. "Doesn't matter. Now tell me, when will you take active control of the Auror forces?"

Harry rubbed his chin. "Active control..."

"You have to take control whilst they're still charmed by your name, Harry. Otherwise, they won't recognize your authority without you earning it."

"A week from now." He said decisively after a few moments of silence. "Tell them to gather on the field...no, wait. I'll send missives to everyone. Give me a complete list of Aurors, divided by ranks, levels, and experience. And the name of the most rebellious of the bunch. The one who might think I'm a kid and try to undermine my authority."

"Everything will be on your desk." She nodded, the slight smirk she'd built up through his request dropping down at the end. "But why the last one? Are you planning to kick them off?"

"No…I'm planning to make an example out of them."

She hummed, nodding slowly. “I have a list of Aurors and their general nature right here actually. You can study it in your free time.”

Amelia got up, moving to the cabinet at the corner. Her mind shook a little when she realized she was giving Harry quite a brazen look at her tiny underskirt.

‘Nothing he hadn’t seen before.’ She reiterated to herself like a mantra.

Steeling her nerves, Amelia cleared her throat. "I do hope you don't use the Aurors placed at Hogwarts for anything...immature."

She opened the cabinet, stacks of files and papers greeting her eyes. "That is not to sa—!"

Her words died off into a yelp as she felt a strong hand slapping her arse.

“Harry..." She growled, but the shameless man continued pinching and squeezing her butt with a fierce intensity, both his hands hard at work.

“You just have to arouse me every time I walk through that door, don’t you?” He hissed in her ears, tightly cupping her body with his, one hand coming up to knead her breasts like dough. “You enjoy it, don’t you? Making me harder than steel. All for your body…”

“T-that wasn’t my intention.” Amelia breathed out haltingly, spikes of pleasure quickly drowning her sense of duty. “We have w-work to do, Harry…”

“Yeah,” He murmured against her throat, his warm tongue snaking out to lick the curve of her neck, sending tinglings of pleasurous heat burning through her. “We do. And this is one of them. Certainly the most important one, I’d say.”

She couldn’t hold back her moan any longer as he started rubbing himself against her, their bodies writhing together in pure lust and need.

Amelia had no sense of time, her entire world disappearing in a mixture of pleasure and lust, her only work now trying to keep up with the man currently tearing at her clothes. She refused to be dominated once again! Refused to be left on her desk like a used rag, too weak and tired to walk straight without downing potions.

But as he unbuckled his pants and let his massive shaft fly free from its cage, she knew there was no escaping her fate.

All she could do was bend over her desk and let the beast mount her like he owned her.

The cries and moans of pleasure that blared across the room said it all; for all her complaints, Amelia Bones loved getting boned by her young lover. The hammering he delivered to her cunt always left her in cloud nine, touching the highs she’d never experienced before. And even though the images would disturb her for the rest of the day, she knew she wouldn’t regret it. There were few pleasures in life available to her now, and she was desperate to hang onto this one as long as she could.

The desperation to never let him go was acute enough that she’d been reading all about the battles in bed, hoping to win at least one of them…hoping to keep him interested. She couldn’t let him win every time. Couldn’t let him dominate her like a common whore. After all, he could do the same to thousands of women, younger and fuller than her. What did she bring to the table? Apart from getting bent over it every time, that is. What did she have that other women might not?

The thought was almost depressing. For Amelia Bones was afraid of the last time Harry Potter would mount her. The day when he would decide to end it all, too bored of the old woman to ever look back again.

She had to do something about it.

Thankfully, it looked like she had quite a lot of time, ‘cause her lover did not seem to tire of her body for the next seven hours, driving into her with vengeance until the night had fallen, and they both laid on her couch tiredly, unable to move a muscle. In these seven hours, she’d rejected over eight meeting requests, sent away her secretary a dozen times, and had to make sure the wards hadn’t broken time and time again due to how loud her screams were.

It was a shame that one of those meeting requests came from her only friend in the Ministry, but sacrifices had to be made for the greater good.

…Plus, she’d rather die than let Bella see her getting absolutely smashed by her godson’s cock.

By the time a hurried Harry left her office, she was sure the entire Ministry was speculating about their Minister’s health. She could only hope that no one saw a six foot long, heavily muscled man dressed in Hogwarts robes sneaking past the guards.

Merlin help them all on the day the world finds out about their affair. Either she would join Harry up there as their Messiah’s lover, or she’d get demonized and shamed for manipulating their young Savior and everything would come crashing down.

But until then…she was happy to keep getting her world rocked.

------------------------------------

It was a cold night that greeted Harry upon arriving at the Hogsmeade station, a soft splintering whoosh the only thing that announced his presence to the few spectators that were waiting for the train. Cold and wet the night was; the dark skies having been stolen by a bunch of grumbling clouds that cried like newborn babies, drenching his robed figure in barely a moment past his arrival.

His school trunk was reduced into a small cube, resting in his inner pocket right now. He’d thanked the god almighty for the first time in his life when he found the Marauder’s Map and Invisibility Cloak in Jacob’s trunk.

With a flick of his wrist, Harry formed a small shield overhead to protect him from the rainstorm, before quickly heading for the cover of a bonnet-roofed house. The Hogsmeade station rested inside the boundaries of its namesake-village, with a lively neighborhood surrounding it, providing just a little bit of light; enough for the station to not go pitch black. A few friendly chaps waved at him and he waved back, his identity safe due to the remaining darkness of the night and blurry vision from the rain.

He also spied the presence of one giant of a man standing at the opposite side of the platform, his eleven foot tall figure leaving no doubt in his mind as to the identity of its owner.

Though he desperately wished to, Harry didn’t call out to Hagrid. He doubted anything save for a Sonorus-amplified voice could pierce through the clattering of rainfall; and the last thing he wished to do was announce the presence of Harry Potter to the whole neighborhood.

The Hogwarts train was running late so he pressed up his back against the wall, and readied himself for a good bit of wait. While the idea of flying in the rain to meet the train halfway and surprise his family with a dorky greeting seemed an exciting prospect, it was impractical enough that he quickly dropped it.

‘The windows and doors will be closed as well.’ And for some reason, the image of him chasing after the train to keep pace while rapping his knuckles on the window glass, desperate to be let in from the assaulting rain, was too embarrassing to give the idea further thought.

‘Well…I guess I’m here for some time.’ He sighed, casting his gaze across the railway.

His attention was soon taken by a sudden bout of déjà vu as a realization hit his entire mind like a bucket of ice falling upon his person, jerking him up-straight again.

‘This is where I decided to end it all.’ He thought somberly, heart beating wildly as his mind revisited the buried memories.

It wasn’t exactly here, but just half a mile or so away from the station. The rocky path that led down to Hogsmeade village.

‘It was raining then as well, wasn’t it?’ He chuckled to himself humorlessly. ‘I slipped on a fucking rock and broke my glasses under my skinny arse.’

Thinking back, he couldn’t quite decide what exactly sold him on the idea of using a broken Time-turner. Was it the helplessness of things or something just as deeper? Or was it something as simple as breaking his glasses for the last freakin time and having had enough?

Realistically speaking, his past-self had to know deep down there was a very large chance that he was simply heading for a quick and mysterious end. But even now, he remembered the thought of suicide feeling more like a relief than anything; a mere chance to free himself from the depressing darkness that his life had become.

And looking how far he’d come since then—with a new family, new lovers, new siblings, a new war, and the chance to finally win it all—he didn’t regret it one bit.

‘Should I congratulate myself for giving up then?’ He snorted, shaking his head as the sound of Hogwarts Express’ familiar whistling honk blared in the background.

Whatever pressed him to make his decision then, he knew he was glad he’d made it, and that was enough. He had a new life now, thinking back to the demons of the past would do him no good.

Sending a quick thanks and empathic condolence to his past self, Harry recast his shield and made his way for the carriage he remembered his family taking. On the other side, he could hear Hagrid bellow out the chants of ‘Firs’ years!’ as the train came to a halt and doors slid open, unleashing the stream of children ready to start upon a new school year.

His part-time lover and siblings seemed to have reverted the hair-charm, making it laughably easy to make out the bunch of redheads, even under less than suitable lighting conditions. And for any who’d look at them up-close, confusing them for Weasley redheads would be almost impossible. Where the gaggle of Weasleys had flaming red hair, almost a shade of orange, the Potter females had dark blood red hair that could be mistaken for maroon under the darkness.

They met him in the middle as the rest of the crowd rushed past, the rain forcing them to not keep gawking once a couple of people recognized him. With a force of his will, he manipulated the Protego shield to extend until it was acting like an enlarged umbrella, protecting all four of them under its glowing blue cover.

“Harry!” The one to exclaim was Rose, who threw herself at his stomach—the highest point she could reach. “I thought you wouldn’t come!”

Harry’s lips tugged up slightly, his hand extending to muss up the girl’s hair. “I would never dare break my promise to you, littlest sister.”

“I’m not that little!” Her retort was muffled into his stomach.

"You don’t look happy to see us.”

He peered up to see Lily frowning slightly.

Laughing, he spread his arms wide and wrapped all three of them in a quick hug—uncaring of the students around them. “Don’t worry about it, I was in a philosophical mood. I’m just glad I’m here now.”

“Here?” Dorea asked from beneath his arm. “To pick us up?”

He shrugged, letting go, and didn’t bother correcting her.

“That was too quick to be counted as a proper hug, don’t you think girls?” Lily asked with a smirk, a mischievous glint in her eyes.

Harry snorted at the two quick yes’, feeling unbelievably lucky to be alive.

“C’mon.” He waved at the ladies before he could get overwhelmed by feelings. “You don’t want to miss today’s welcoming feast.”

By the time they reached the line of carriages, Harry had managed to pull himself together, back to his normal self.

The first thing he felt after stepping foot in Hogwarts ground was…guilt. Not for the people he’d failed in his last life, not for the castle he’d failed to protect, not even for the children who’d died to protect him….

He felt guilty because he was…disappointed.

But could he truly be blamed for being slightly unhappy at the carriages that awaited them? The Thestrals were cool, certainly, but they didn’t drag the carriages through the air for whatever reason. After having had a glimpse of Beauxbatons, and the possible reason why Fleur had always been so arrogant about her school, he had to admit Hogwarts came off a little lacking.

Combine it with the dreadfully unpredictable English weather and he could see why the old Fleur would prefer France to this.

Still, he wasn’t one to complain in the middle of a rainy night.

He herded the ladies into a carriage quickly, and started their ride for Hogwarts. Around the first gate, they  found Hogwarts' new security team awaiting them.

He was a little disappointed that it wasn’t Tonks, but returned the snap of ‘Sir!’ with a glad nod all the same.

It was only then that a very thought hit him like a Bludger straight to the noggin.

‘I can pull rank over Tonks now.’ He felt a smile creep up on his face. ‘I can literally order her to attend to me all day and night.’

Especially once he was declared the Hogwarts champion and didn’t need to attend classes.

‘Oh, things are really looking up for me.’

Of course, there was still the tiny problem of him having not kept his promise to her on that fateful day. He’d missed, quite possibly, the greatest head he would ever hope to receive. Still, he’d deal with the problem when it actually became a problem.

Once they were checked for Polyjuice and illegal charms—even him, due to his own orders—they were finally allowed to exit the Carriage and go in.

Lily transfigured a giant umbrella—he was the one made to hold it, of course—and they reached the cover of Hogwarts’ powerful wards with their ankles just a bit drenched.

McGonagall was waiting at the grand doors to welcome the firsties, giving a warm nod of greeting to Lily and a pursed ‘Mr. Potter’ to him. From his memories, he knew McGonagall wasn’t too friendly with his Slytherin self, even though he was a rising champion in Transfiguration.

He thought she would simply go on ignoring him, even with his new, infallible reputation. Instead, she closed the distance between them quickly, her lips still pursed and eyes sterner than ever, and extending a hand at him.

Frowning, he raised his own hand in confusion before he realized her intention.

A slip.

He uncurled the folded paper with a single line.

‘I would like to formally invite you to my office for a brief meeting after the welcome feast.’

—Albus Dumbledore

P.S: I'm in the mood for some Cockroach Cluster today. While I’ve found not many are fond of them, I would be happy to share.

“One of my students will guide you to his office.” McGonagall told, whirling around.

“No need.” He called after her. “I know the way.”

She glanced at him, frowning. “As you wish, Mr. Potter.”

He threw away the slip the moment she turned around.

“Don’t go.” Lily said fiercely, just as McGonagall was out of their ear shot. “You have enough authority to directly disregard Dumbledore’s orders. And there’s nothing he can do about it.”

Harry shook his head. “He will hound me the entire year then. I’ll give him five minutes, and come back.”

She bit her lips, looking worried. “I can come with you if you want? As a parent if not as your teacher.”

Harry chuckled, shaking his head. “Relax, Lily. There’s nothing the old man can do to me. I’m too big of a political powerhouse for any blatant threats.”

She didn’t stop worrying until their attention was taken in dodging the wet as kitten students that shook off water everywhere, and once they reached the Great Hall, it was too late to argue.

“Promise me you’ll be safe.” She whispered in his ears, before giving a quick kiss to the cheek at his nod. “Then I’ll have to just trust you.”

She gave quick farewells to his siblings and went forth to join the teacher’s section.

Their entrance hadn’t gone unnoticed, of course. They were a constant subject of finger-pointing and whispering across the four tables, but he ignored it all with the practiced grace of a veteran celebrity.

“I have to join the snakes.” He informed his sisters. “Make sure to keep my words at heart, I’ll see you two later.”

He gave them both a quick hug and made his way to the Slytherin table.

He didn’t find many friendly eyes there. Cautious, curious, contemptuous, and even fearful, but only one friendly; Blaise Zabini.

The boy himself was sitting alone, away from the rest of the group, his eyes finding Harry’s with relief and anticipation. The last time they’d seen each other, Harry had still been the champion of European tournament, having just saved him from torture or worse.

It was difficult to believe your friend going from a loner, ‘barely accepted’ Slytherin fourth year to a European Champion who saved your life, but it must be downright impossible to accept him becoming the Messiah of the Wizarding World.

Harry could literally read the ‘Are we friends or not? Or am I too low on the coolness level to hang out with you now?’ in his eyes.

Smiling, Harry headed for the boy. The relief spreading through him almost made him burst out in laughter.

“Lord Potter!” A voice called from around the middle of the table.

‘One of the Princes of Slytherin.’ His memories came to the fore as his eyes rested on the male 7th year student.

“Come, sit with us.” He patted a seat next to him. A very high honor in Slytherin politics, enough to change the game completely…

Harry simply gave a contemptuous snort as he passed him by—taking joy at the shock and rage coursing in the boy’s eyes at that—heading at the lower rung of the table where Zabini sat on his lonesome. Even Daphne and the rest of their ‘friends’ were sitting a couple seats away from him.

“Hey, Harry.” The boy greeted with a hesitant smile. “Would your majesty be alright if this lowly peasant called you Harry? I completely understand if you prefer Lord Potter now…”

Blaise gave an awkward laugh, trying to play the question off as a joke while still wanting an honest answer.

“Harry is fine, Blaise.” He chuckled. “Though I too completely understand if your humble personage couldn’t handle my grandeur. You may call me Lord Potter if you find your tongue burning with unworthiness.”

Blaise laughed, much more freely this time. “It's great to have you back, mate. I honestly thought you’ve left Hogwarts. What could you possibly hope to learn now?”

“When someone stops learning, they also stop progressing.” Harry lectured. “And I, for one, plan to climb to the very top and push the limits of boundaries never crossed before.”

Blaise stuck his tongue out, hanging his head limply, before suddenly jerking straight with ridiculously crossed eyes. “Huh? What? Progress...crossed boundaries…I’m a limit?”

Harry nodded gravely. “Pretty much, yeah.”

The boy chuckled.

They didn’t get to talk for long before Dumbledore got his arse up and started his opening speech.

The rest of the feast passed as Harry remembered. He took great joy in reliving a memory of the past—though now as a Snake instead of a Lion— talking and joking with Blaise, and helping himself to some quality food.

When the feast was over and the time for announcements came, there was only one thing different from his past life; the participation of Ilvermorny in the now dubbed Quad-Wizard tournament.

The second surprise didn’t come from Dumbledore’s speech, but simply from the absence of Moody. It could be tied by the presence of Lupin, and his wife Sara, in the Hogwarts staff, but for some unfathomable reason, he felt a stinging suspicion that something was wrong.

‘Barty Crouch Jr.’ Harry winced. ‘I never properly researched his case.’

He just didn’t have the time. Well, he could’ve, of course, controlled himself from wasting seven hours in fucking the ever loving shit out of his Minister, and actually looked into his case, but he simply couldn’t convince himself of ever doing that.

Harry shrugged. ‘No man is perfect.’

Plus, he was in a hormonal body that had also received a mega boost to the balls. It was a testament of his great control that he wasn’t using his popularity to bang every pretty girl he saw.

…Yet.

As the excited crowd of students started making their way for their dorms, Harry stood up with a deep breath.

“You aren’t coming?” Blaise asked, noticing him staring at the teachers’ side.

“No, you go on. I have a meeting to catch.”

“…Alright, I’ll be awake.”

With another deep breath, Harry psyched himself up for what was to come.

It was time to meet his former mentor.

------------------------------------

With slow and sure steps, Harry Potter made his way to the Headmaster’s office, wanting to bury this prickly thorn once and for all.

While he felt prepared to face the behemoth, he hadn’t quite counted on the complicated sense of nostalgia that assaulted him with every step. His younger self, it would seem, had hated the headmaster’s blatantly Gryffindorish office with all his heart. But Harry on other hand, had nothing save for fond memories created within it, having spent a large part of his final Hogwarts year locked away inside it. Even the sharp tang of bitterness he felt in regards to its owner couldn’t quite defeat it.

The office was almost like a reminder of the relatively calm times when everything hadn't gone to shit yet. When Dumbledore was still alive, when the Order stood strong and unrelenting….

When they'd dared to hope of victory.

A shame that hope hadn't lasted for long.

'Doesn't matter. I have another chance now, and the heavens would fall down to join hell before I let Dumbledore ruin it.’

But he would have to keep his game up for this. No matter how much he'd come to despise his former mentor, Albus Dumbledore was a genius the likes of none. Even Hermione, for all her knowledge and ambition, could never have hoped to glimpse the highs that Dumbledore had touched.

More than that however, the old man was...well, old. Old and wise, and scarily perceptive. Harry would need to actively Occlude his mind if he wanted to direct this meeting in his way.

Sighing, he trudged on. 'Merlin help me deal with this fool-man.'

Dumbledore had the ability to ruin all his plans in one go. The old man’s overconfidence in his own abilities would always be something that rubbed Harry the wrong way. If he got even a flicker of his plans, Dumbledore would no doubt try to integrate himself with them, forcing his rubbish—and utterly unneeded— wisdom down their throats.

Of course, this forced Harry to acknowledge the fact that he might need to deal with the old man in a more…permanent manner.

By killing him.

He couldn’t do it blatantly of course....that would risk the ruination of his plans in Hogwarts. And undoubtedly shatter all his work with the Ministry. He doubted even his reputation could hope to save him from the direct murder of one of the most respected wizards in history of Wizardkind.

No...he would need to either keep him completely in the dark—a very tall order—or he would have to make some less than moral arrangements for him.

'A slight push down the stairs could do the trick.' Harry mused, gaining a sudden bout of inspiration. ‘He’s old and clumsy…no one would suspect if they found him buried in a plant, arse up.’

Though he had to admit, while the thought of revenge felt sweet, actually killing Dumbledore would have much larger consequences that he wasn’t ready to handle. Whatever happens, he couldn’t let another ‘Dementor’ situation take place.

As he turned the corner and finally came to face the Gargoyle, all thoughts of assassination left his mind.

With a deep breath, Harry readied himself to face the man he’d once considered his mentor. "Well…here goes nothing."

It was time to meet possibly the most dangerous wizard in the world right now…

------------------------------------

Albus Dumbledore dumped his butt down on his office chair, sighing a sleepy sigh. The bowl of Cockroach Clusters sitting innocently on his desk had never looked more enticing before. Those brown, nut-shaped candies, full of sugary powder….

He hesitated only briefly before his hand snapped at the bowl and a couple of candies were promptly thrown in his mouth.

Dumbledore laid back, sucking contently. ‘Another new start to another new year.’

Though this time it promised to be an interesting one.

This year was bound to have some unwanted action, Albus knew. Action that he had long hoped wouldn't reach the walls of Hogwarts.

Yet it had, and there was little he could do about it now.

Then again, perhaps it was a fitting farewell to him. His last year in Hogwarts may not pass as peacefully as he’d hoped, but at least it promised him a chance to go out fighting. Certainly not a bad way to go, though quite unusual for a man who’d worked towards peace his whole life.

And it was now time to pass on the mantle. Prepare his successor and learn to trust.

Now, if only his chosen successor wouldn’t turn out to be a possessed Dark Lord…

‘This night shall let me know everything.’ The only thing remaining was to wait for his guest to arrive.

It was surprising really, how quickly Harry had grown in the course of a week. To be capable of convincing the Minister of sacrificing Azkaban, just to catch Voldemort in a trap...

It spoke of a certain ruthlessness that Dumbledore had always lacked. But if one was to win a war against two Dark Lords, perhaps ruthlessness was exactly the quality needed.

‘He’ll be a better leader than me.’ Dumbledore concluded, smiling wryly. ‘A shame the bar isn’t as high as I would’ve liked.’

Some would say the boy had already crossed that bar. The amount of authority Harry Potter had managed to grasp over the Ministry now, had once taken a young, more ambitious Dumbledore years to build.

If one needed a sign to believe that Harry Potter would be a vastly better leader, they need only look at the results of what he’d accomplished with that authority.

Hogwarts, for instance, was usually left alone on its own devices, with the Ministry and Governors trusting Dumbledore to handle the school as he liked.

Yet, not even a week since his appointment as the head of Aurors, Harry had somehow managed to replace the entire group of Governors—including Lucius Malfoy—that oversaw the school's happenings, and then proceeded to post a squad of no less than seven Aurors to guard the school campus.

While Dumbledore had been miffed to see the Aurors flying around the campus all day, plotting its grounds and towers, and disturbing his afternoon tea party with a few friendly elves, he had quickly grown to forgive their grave mistake for the level of competence they’d displayed. While it would certainly be an interesting sight to see; Harry Potter, a boy with mere fourteen years of experience in living, commanding Aurors twice and thrice his age, Dumbledore did wonder about the presence of Nymphadora Tonks. The girl, while undoubtedly impressive, had been amongst the latest batch of students to graduate from Hogwarts. To see her flying alongside much more experienced Auror made him believe something more mysterious was going on.

He chuckled. ‘Oh, young love.’

He hoped his guess was true. For that alone would do wonders in convincing him of Harry’s allegiance.

Sighing, Dumbledore cast a quick ‘Tempus’. The boy was certainly taking his sweet time. Normally he would’ve let him enjoy his first night, and bided his time patiently. But truth be told he feared greatly of dying abruptly without receiving any chance to right his wrongs.

It was imperative for them to speak today, and quickly.

‘We cannot fight the same enemy from two different fronts.’

And today's meeting will determine how successful they would be in putting up a united front.

Like all meetings, this one started with a knock on his door.

"Enter."

The one who entered was no child, that much was clear to Dumbledore's eyes. While he considered most to be students in his eyes, no matter their age, this one carried with him a certain...grimness. Along with a weight and a threat.

He would like to say it was only due to his physical masculinity; the broad shoulders, the well trimmed hint of beard, the depth of his face....but it would be false. It was in his eyes and demeanor; the cautious gaze that flickered around the room with barely suppressed Paranoia before it came to rest on him, the taut muscles that looked ready to burst into motion at the barest hint of hostility....

The boy in front of him was no child—certainly not the Harry Potter he knew— and he looked ready for war.

Dumbledore swallowed a sigh. Not even a word and they were already off to a bad start.

'This will be difficult.'

With a deep, calming breath, Dumbledore forced a beaming smile on his face. "Good evening, Mr. Potter."

The young man stayed quiet, his piercing eyes pinning him under a mightily complicated gaze, before he gave a brief nod. "Dumbledore."

'A bad start indeed.'

Dumbledore chuckled. "Am I no longer considered a Headmaster in your eyes, Mr. Potter? Or a professor?"

Harry Potter grimaced, giving a small acquiescing nod. "Professor Dumbledore." Then he cocked his head and continued. "Though you are partially correct. I shall not consider you my Headmaster after this year."

Dumbledore smiled slightly, which he was sure must’ve looked frustratingly mysterious. "You wouldn’t need to.”

He maintained his smile as the boy’s eyes went flat. “Though it is still troubling to hear. May I ask why, my dear boy?"

"First, that." The boy pointed at him, lips twisting in a grimace. "Your patronizing is something I'm just not willing to tolerate anymore. Secondly, there is very little Hogwarts can give me that I cannot find outside its wall's. And one year should be enough to learn that 'very little'."

Dumbledore struggled to maintain his smile, feeling his age weight on his shoulders as he continued observing the boy.  ‘It is clear I’m not talking to Voldemort, though it is also clear I’m not talking to the Harry Potter I knew.’

He was sure the boy was only feeding him what he wanted him to know; but even those simple choices proved in Dumbledore’s eyes that the boy was no Dark Lord in the making. As for his accusations of patronizing…well, old men had a habit of taking some things for granted; their ability to be infuriating and getting away with it scot free was one of them.

Still, that was not what he was truly worried about. And he doubted the boy was either…there was something else the boy disliked about him; something deeper than the personality of an old man.

‘Just who are you, my boy?’ He peered at him over his glasses, letting his trusty twinkle try to pull him off of his constant caution.

If anything, the boy grew even colder, eyes twitching in what could be mistaken for exasperation, but Dumbledore could see a darker side to it.

Not darker as in ‘I’m hiding a Dark Lord’s soul inside myself that’s influencing my decisions’ but a more natural kind of ‘darker’ that he’d only ever seen in people who believed they’d been wronged. Most often by him.

‘Now whatever could I have done to him?’ Dumbledore closed his eyes, feeling his ever igniting edge of curiosity slowly bleeding away.

‘Should I keep fighting? Keep needling until he slips up?’

He found himself wavering. To see another person who most likely blames Dumbledore for whatever wrong hand they’d been dealt in life was…depressing.

But then again, he had wronged the boy, hadn’t he? He’d judged him without any basis, played a hand—no matter how unintentional—in dividing him from his family. The Potters had always hated him for it, so it was understandable if the boy picked up on that hate, along with the mantle of Lord Potter.

Yet, something convinced him it was more personal than that. A sudden feeling of intuition that screamed at him only one thing: You’ve wronged the boy gravely, and this is much more personal than an inherited family feud.

His thoughts spun a dark web within his mind, and he felt his hand flaming up in irritating bouts of pain as stress began taking hold of him. ‘I don’t have much time before I’m forced to retire.’

At least he had enough grasp of the boy to conclude that he wasn’t some Dark Lord secretly plotting a web. ‘And isn’t that enough for now?’

…No. No, it wasn’t enough. Not nearly enough.

He needed the boy to trust him. Needed Harry Potter to work together with him, to make use of his knowledge and expertise before Death claimed him.

Yet, he cannot win a war against someone unwilling to engage. The wizard in front of him wasn't even giving him a chance to convince him, what more could he possibly do?

"You don't like me." Dumbledore sighed, finally giving up.

He wasn't long for this world. Even if there was some darkness still hidden inside the boy's adequately occluded mind, he had too little time to play a game of words, and too little fight to win.

"I never have." The boy replied bluntly, and Dumbledore couldn’t help but smile.

"But you never showed it so openly before." He argued lightly.

"I have no reason to hide it anymore." Harry Potter’s lips twisted in a horrid smirk, "If you don't recall with age, I'm the biggest celebrity of England currently. And more powerful than you, politically."

"True." Dumbledore nodded sagely, eyeing the boy critically. For all his words, he didn't sound boastful or arrogant, simply...goading.

'What do you wish to prove to me, child?’

"Well....there is no point to this then. Let me simply ask you, Harry. What do you plan to do?"

Albus absently noted brief hints of surprise flickering on his face before they were hidden under the coldness of Occlumency.

“To win this war.” He answered.

Dumbledore smiled. “And how do you plan to do that?”

“By winning the war.”

He chuckled. “Very true. And how will you win the war?”

“By defeating some people.”

Dumbledore hummed, nodding slowly. “…And am I one of those people, Mr. Potter?”

The boy shrugged. “I don’t know. Are you?”

“That, is an excellent question, my young friend.” He stood up, slowly removing the glove, before unraveling the long cloth wrapped around his hand. “You tell me, Mr. Potter.”

Finally, his hand was bared to the world. Without the charmed pieces of cloth keeping it restrained, Dumbledore clearly felt the sharp pangs of pain coursing through every inch of his finger, burning through his veins and blood, yet he kept smiling. “Am I someone that needs defeating?”

All shreds of Occlumency seemed to leave his young friend, his eyes growing bigger and bigger slowly. “No, no, no…you can’t die. Not yet!”

“I’m afraid that’s not in my hands, Mr. Potter.”

“It's not your time yet!” He bellowed, eyes glowing in rage. “Fuck. Fuck, Dumbledore! You ruin everything! Always! The moment you die, Grindelwald will come back to England like a spiteful divorced wife looking for your property! Goddamn it, Old man!”

“That is oddly specific.” Dumbledore winced. More at the vulgarity than the accusations. “I take it my death wasn't in your plan?”

“I hate you.” The boy said very, very seriously. “I hate you with all my heart. But no, I wouldn’t wish you to die so early, unless you become a threat to me.”

Dumbledore started wrapping his hand again, while the boy paced up and down the room with closed eyes.

“How long?” He asked, and Dumbledore didn’t need clarification.

“Ten months. Perhaps less, depending on my stress levels.”

Harry grimaced. “Even going out, you like to make a mess.”

That accusation hurt more than he was willing to admit.

Chuckling sadly, Dumbledore asked again. “Will you tell me your plan, now?”

The boy stopped pacing, eyes suddenly narrowing as they peered at his face with suspicion.

“Harry,” Dumbledore swallowed thickly. “There is nothing I have anymore. You know the feel of Death, you’ve come face to face with it recently. Now you’ve seen my hand, can you not see the truth? There is no way to replicate that, no way I can fool anyone.”

Albus Dumbledore spread his arms wide, helpless.

“You’re talking to a dead man, Harry. Please…I’ve made a lot of mistakes, and I need a chance to repent. I have less than a year to earn my absolution before I depart for my next great journey. Put your trust in me Harry, not because you should, but because you can afford to. I don’t have time to pull any elaborate plans.”

He could see it then. The moment his eyes turned from cold to…angry. It wasn’t the dark, malicious anger a Horcrux of Voldemort would produce…but the bitter anger and contemptuous one of a betrayed trust.

“You want to know the truth, Dumbledore?”

There was something cruel in his gaze now. Something schadenfreude inducing…

“Very well…I will show you. I will show you everything. But first, swear the unbreakable oath to me.”

Dumbledore blinked only once before he nodded. “Very well. But we will need a third person to bond the oath.”

Harry paused, brows creasing.

“I would suggest Severu—”

“Nope.” The denial was cold and harsh, surprising Dumbledore.

“I thought you trusted him?”

“No. Not him. I don’t want him to hear whatever I have to say.” The boy seemed adamant.

“Harry, I assure you, you can trust him.”

His chuckle could’ve frozen the black lake. “Yeah, that wouldn’t be turning out well for you, I assure you that.”

“And if I promise that I have a very strong reason to trust him? What if I say I already have an unbreakable oath in effect?”

Finally the boy listened, his eyes brewing a complicated mixture of emotions that even Dumbledore couldn’t pierce.

“Go on.” The boy urged. “Tell me about this oath then.”

“My reasons to trust Snape are deeper than this, but you may take comfort in knowing he is sworn to protect my secrets and follow my guidance under an unbreakable oath.”

Harry nodded slowly. “And who was your bonder?”

“…My brother.” He admitted, a little reluctant.

“Very well then. Call Snape and make the oath.”

And so they did.

------------------------------------

30 minutes later

Harry stood over the magical basin, looking over the glowing strands of memories flowing like water; ghostly wisps dancing slowly, swirling like a patient tornado as his memories were drowned within.

“Go on, then.” Harry waved at the old man. “I won’t be accompanying you. I’ve no wish to relive them.”

He wasn’t surprised when Dumbledore simply nodded and dove in.

Harry leaned back with a sigh, his mind visiting the craziness the last hour or so had brought him.

The old man had been patient throughout the time. From accepting his outrageous oaths that basically made a slave out of him, to diving into unknown memories without any explanation.

Harry could simply whip out his wand and kill him, taking the Death stick for himself if he so wished, and none would be wiser.

‘Why aren’t you doing it then?’ The question came.

But he knew the answer of course. Why kill a potentially useful ally? Not only was the old man a treasure trove of knowledge—something he doubted those captured Death Eaters could provide—but he was also an incredibly intelligent person who wished to do nothing but serve him in any way he could.

‘Is that all?’ His voice needled him again, and he couldn’t help but be frustrated as his biggest fear was given a thought. ‘Are you sure you aren’t beginning to trust him again?’

Harry stood up, pacing the room under the curious eyes of the portraits.

He can’t trust Dumbledore. Of course, he can’t. He knew that. He’d known it for two lifetimes now. Surely he won’t make the same mistake again?

But he’s under oath. Oath that would take his life should he break them.

No! He is already dying anyway! How much is the unbreakable oath worth, when the price for breaking it is something that will be taken from him one way or the other anyway?

How could he trust Dumbledore not to go out while giving him a middle finger? How could he trust him not to figure out some wiggle room to start planning something utterly stupid, all for the greater good?

The oaths bind him more tightly than any leash, but if there was one person who might be able to outwit magic itself, then it was Dumbledore.

“Merlin damn him.” Harry muttered with a sigh, taking a seat at the Headmaster’s chair.

He couldn’t trust Dumbledore, even with the oaths.

And then there was Snape as well. The bastard had been too calm and quiet when faced with a completely absurd situation. If one day your employer asks you to put a chain around his neck and hand the leash to a child who obviously loathes him, how would you feel?

Harry suspected Snape felt amused.

His Slytherin self had been close with the man, almost viewing him as a mentor the same way Harry had viewed Dumbledore once upon a time.

But if the man felt weird at the sudden coldness and suspicion, he didn’t show it. And without Harry’s permission, Dumbledore won’t be telling him either.

Harry took another deep breath, his eyes falling on the bowl of Cockroach Clusters…

“Yeah, no thanks. I’m not that desperate yet.”

Sighing, he pushed himself up again. ‘I should look at the positives. Why always expect the worst? It could all turn out for good…'

He stopped and snorted. ‘Yeah, right.’

He didn’t even know if showing Dumbledore those memories was a good decision. At first, Harry had just wanted to torture the man with scenes of horror, to show him how badly he’d fucked up, to let him witness with his own eyes the destruction his mistakes had birthed.

Yet now, he couldn’t help but question his decision.

If Dumbledore was the same cunning bastard he’d been in the last life, then baring his soul to him might’ve been the most stupid decision he’d ever taken.

But if he was trustworthy—as a part of him so desperately wanted to believe—then he’s just given Dumbledore a massive spike of stress that would probably cut his lifeline in half.

‘That was stupid of me…' He closed his eyes, before a different thought hit his brain like a sledgehammer. ‘Bella should’ve been the one to see my truth first.’

Sighing, he sat back down.

Yet, even with things not having gone his way, he couldn’t deny a huge relief spreading through him right now; as if a great weight had been lifted from his shoulders. To have another person knowing his truth, to share his burden and goals…it was liberating.

A shame that another soul was Dumbledore of all people.

His eyes went to the bowl of Cockroach Clusters once again…

'Oh, fuck it.’

He swiped a couple and popped them in his mouth, readying himself to what was sure to be a long wait…

------------------------------------

30 Minutes later…

It was only after another thirty minutes that Dumbledore came back down to earth, tears freely flowing down his long silvery beard, making them twinkle under the candle light.

“I made some horrible, horrible mistakes.” Were the first words thrown out of his mouth, his eyes still shedding a water-fall. “I understand now; your hatred and distrust. It was every bit deserving.”

Harry stayed quiet.

“What do you plan to do, Harry?” He asked for the third time that night, but this time he looked so lost and desperate, Harry didn’t have it in his heart to deny him.

“I plan to raze them from existence, of course.”

Dumbledore closed his eyes, bowing down. “You’ve seen so much death, my boy. Is that truly the only way? We can think of something else. I can help you find a more peaceful—“

The words were barely out of his mouth that Harry found himself closing the distance and holding him by the collar.

“Listen to me, Old man.” There was fury in his words, barely suppressed and very hateful. “You failed. You fucking failed, and you failed the whole world too.”

Dumbledore clenched his eyes tighter.

“So from now forth, we do things my way.” He shook the sobbing man. “Cause if not? If not, I will take my family and leave this country to rot by itself.”

His eyes snapped open instantly, looking completely aghast as he stared up at him. "No...you will never do that. The boy I saw in there would neve—"

"The boy you saw is dead!” Harry bellowed in his face, spittle flying everywhere. “I killed him the moment I decided to use that blasted Turner! I, you, all the people of this country, we all killed him. Do you understand me, old man? That self-sacrificing fool is dead."

"No, Harry...there is still him somewhere inside your heart." Dumbledore whispered, but he looked to be trying to convince himself.

Harry clutched the old man's shoulder tightly. "Dumbledore, I tried. I tried to save everyone. I failed. And now I know...it wasn't just because I wasn't good enough...it was also because you weren't ready for my help. The people of England, the Ministry, and you...you all failed me before I failed you. I won't make the same mistake again. I've been given a second chance...either things go my way...or I leave. Do you understand?"

The old man could only nod, knowing he'd lost.

“We have much to plan now. So start talking. Everything you know, on your oath, you will reveal them to me. From tomorrow, you will teach me Elemental magic, you will start experimenting on Dementors, you will do everything in your power to prepare me for the war to come. I cannot handle two Dark Lords as I am. We either need to eliminate one by the time of your death…or I need to become the most powerful fucking wizard to have ever walked this planet.”

It was time to change the gears of war. And dare he say…Harry was quite looking forward to it.

------------------------------------

AN: Boom! 16K in 7 days, let's gooooo!

So, was it worth it? Really hope you all enjoyed! With this, we're officially in the next arc of SOW! Hope you're excited for it.

Let me know your thoughts on the chapter, and definitely leave a like if you enjoyed!

I'll see you guys in the next chap, peace!