Chapter 17
CwD
September 19th, 1996
"A meeting… with Mr. Potter?"
"Yes," Matthias said simply, his expression unreadable.
"Forgive me," Dumbledore began, his gaze sharpening as he studied the Greengrass Lord, "but may I ask why?"
" – This is official business," Malakai interjected smoothly, his thick beard obscuring the movement of his lips. "We are not here to meet him as a student, but as a fellow Lord."
"I see," Dumbledore murmured, settling back into his chair. "Mr. Potter informed me before the start of term that all official business should be directed through his proxy, Madam Black. May I ask why you've chosen to bypass her?"
"You misunderstand, Headmaster. Madam Black has been informed and I believe she should be arriving momentarily – ah."
As if on cue, the fireplace pulsed with a surge of green flames. Dumbledore arched a brow, then gestured toward the hearth with a flick of his fingers.
Andromeda stepped through the fire with practiced grace, brushing soot from her robes with a deft swish of her wand. Regal in bearing, her calm beauty barely concealed the storm gathering behind her steely eyes.
"Headmaster," she greeted coolly, dipping her head.
Dumbledore stood up before smiling gently at her, a soft warmth in his expression that seemed to ease the tension coiled in her shoulders. "How are you, Madam Black?"
"Well, thank you." Her gaze flicked to Snape, who offered a curt nod in return. Then her eyes landed on the two men standing across the room and her jaw visibly tensed.
"Lord Greengrass. Lord Warrington," she acknowledged, her nod more restrained than theirs.
The two Lords stood up from their seats and inclined their heads in turn, each dipping slightly lower than Andromeda in deference to her elevated station.
Dumbledore conjured a chair for her with a silent flick of his wand. Andromeda took it without hesitation.
"Now, will someone explain what exactly is going on?"
CwD
"Yeah, just like that, Ron. Criss-cross. As if you're braiding hair."
"I've never braided hair before…" Ron grumbled, tugging clumsily at the long leaves.
"There's not much difference," Neville said helpfully, though his eyes flicked toward Harry with growing concern. "Just alternate the leaves – w-what're you doing, Harry…?"
"Potting."
Ron snorted.
"Not with magic!" Neville lunged forward and snatched the floating Valerian from mid-air, cradling it protectively. He shot the black-haired boy a withering look. "You can't be using magic! Don't you know that there are some things which you shouldn't do with magic!"
Harry groaned. He waved his hand over the table behind him, banishing it of soil and dirt before laying down on top of it.
"For fuck's sake, Neville! We've been at this for hours. You could at least let me speed things up a bit."
"No!" Neville hissed, clutching the plan to his chest like it was an infant. "Plants are sensitive to magic and you've got too bloody much of it!"
If anything, Harry's groans grew in volume. "This is such a pain… I could be doing anything else right now…"
" – You promised me you'd help."
" – I didn't." Ron chimed in.
"Oh?" Neville turned to Ron and raised an eyebrow. "I'll just go tell Hermione that you want to start on that charms report after all, then."
Grimacing, the ginger turned back to his task and eyed his plant with disdain. "I liked it better when you were quiet."
" – I said I'd help," Harry began with a roll of his eyes, crossing his arms behind his head, "I just didn't think it would take this long."
"They're delicate! You know that!" Neville snapped. Then, when Harry didn't reply, he added, more pointedly, "Third year, Harry. Professor Sprout taught us about Valerian in third year."
"Yeah, well, I was a bit preoccupied by all the other things in here trying to kill me one way or the other." He replied, scrunching his nose at the muffled wails of the Mandrake crying somewhere in the greenhouse.
Neville muttered under his breath as he began gently repotting the Valerian himself.
" – Bloody hell… o-oh, bloody – bloody fucking hell! How many times did you say I have to do this again?" Ron shouted over his shoulder, precariously holding onto the two leaves whilst the others began to whip at him. "Why the bloody hell are these little shits getting so riled up?!"
"At least fifty times – "
" – Fifty?!"
" – to properly intertwine the leaves," Neville finished over Ron's outburst. "It ensures there are no complications when they breed. And relax, will you? They'll calm down once you finish braiding their leaves."
Ron eyed the plants warily. "Merlin's saggy balls… imagine having to help plants have sex… I'm probably touching its dick."
Harry snorted from his makeshift bed, staring out through the foggy glass at the grey sky above. Though it was mostly grey out today, it certainly was brighter than usual. Hints of the afternoon sunlight peaked through the thick clouds. The soft light filtered through the glass of the greenhouse, giving it a slightly golden hue.
"Speaking off…" Ron began. Harry could practically hear the teasing in his voice as he spoke, "guess who I ran into the other day, Harry."
"Who?"
"Neville's little girlfriend. She wasn't alone though. Our pudgy prince was with her too."
"Really…?" Harry drawled amusedly, glancing at Neville's back. "And what shameless activities were they doing? Holding hands?"
Ron guffawed, seeing Neville blush from the tips of his ears down to his neck.
"More like seeing who could shove their tongue down the other's throat the furthest! Nev's face was so red that I thought he'd pass out when I busted them near the kitchens!"
" – Oh, piss off," Neville groaned, spinning around to face them, though he couldn't quite hold back his grin, "I still don't know how you found us… Hannah told me no one knew that spot except the 'Puffs."
"I had help," Ron shrugged unabashedly, tapping his nose conspiratorially. "From a certain elf."
"I was wondering where Dobby kept getting all those new hats." Harry chuckled from his perch. "Ron, stop giving my elf clothes."
"It's called business, Harry," the ginger corrected wiggling his finger. "Dobby makes my life as a Prefect easier and in return, he gets fashion."
Harry sighed.
He would definitely need to have a talk with his elf.
"So Nev… how is it going with… Abbot?"
Neville smiled hesitantly. "Really good, Harry."
"Yeah?"
"Yeah. I, uh – you've met her father, Allen before right?"
"Short bloke?" Harry asked, brow raised. "The guy that wants everyone to call him Al?"
"That's him," Neville chuckled. "Gran and he have been talking for a while now, you see, and they – they've finalised on a courting agreement between me and Han."
Harry blinked, sitting up straighter. "You serious?"
"Yeah." Neville nodded, face burning. "I went to tell Hannah as soon as I got Gran's letter… right before Ron barged in."
"Sorry, mate," Ron said with a grin, whilst the other boy shot him a mock glare.
Harry let out a low whistle. "You don't think you're going too fast or anything?"
Neville smiled, softer this time, and shook his head. "Hannah gets me, Harry. Like… really gets me. We're more alike than I ever expected." He hesitated, then added in a quieter voice, "Look, I-I know how you feel about her – "
"Neville – "
" – She regrets it," Neville said quickly, cutting Harry off. "What happened in Fourth Year. With the badges, and the nasty rumours… she's been wanting to apologise for a long time. She just never found the right moment, y'know?"
Harry sighed; his eyes distant for a moment.
"It was a shitty thing to do," he admitted finally, watching as Neville flinched slightly at the bluntness, "but it's in the past. Besides, what I think doesn't matter. If you're happy, Nev… that's what counts."
But that was only half the truth.
In reality, Harry had no fondness left for Hannah – or most of the Hufflepuffs, save for Susan. During his Fourth Year, they were his staunchest haters and made his life a living hell. The constant insults, thinly veiled threats, the endless hexes when the teachers weren't looking were certainly not pleasant to live through and wasn't something Harry would likely ever forget.
Neville let out a breath like he'd been holding it in for days. "Thanks, Harry. That means a lot."
Harry gave him a small nod, realising just how much Neville had been looking for his approval – like it somehow mattered more than anyone else's.
Ron cleared his throat, mercifully shifting the mood. "So… this courting agreement," he said, wiggling his eyebrows, "how far can you two, you know, go?"
Harry rolled his eyes as Neville flushed crimson. "Is your mind just full of sex?"
"No!" Ron denied hotly, his cheeks blushing slightly, "It's just that Seamus was going on about how he got laid over the summer – "
"Knowing that git, he probably made it up," Harry said dryly. "This the same guy that once claimed he felt up a Veela at the World Cup… need I go on?"
Ron huffed. "Even if he did lie, it still makes you think, doesn't it? I mean, aren't you at least a little… curious?"
Harry snorted. "Itching for some action, Ron? I'll be sure to let Trelawney know."
"Fuck off, Harry." Ron's blush deepened. "Well? Nev?"
Neville, who was stifling his sniggers, cleared his throat and lifted his chin up slightly.
"As far as any normal couple, Ron, not that it's any of your business."
"Sure… from what I saw, it was like someone had stuck your lips together!" Ron teased with a grin. "You likely would've gone further if I hadn't stopped you!"
Neville opened his mouth to fire back, but Harry cut in first, brow furrowed. "I was under the impression that people who were under contract couldn't do anything until they were married?"
His mind involuntarily drifted to Daphne and her betrothal with Warrington, though when he thought about it, he really didn't know much about their betrothal.
Hmmm…
Harry couldn't deny he was more than a little intrigued.
Just a little…
"That depends," Neville began, "all contracts are different. It just comes down to the terms agreed on. Some are really strict, but others – like mine and Hannah's – are more relaxed. Ours mainly outlines division of assets, house obligations, and expectations around children. Aside from that, we're free to do what we want… as long as we're married by twenty-one and stay faithful."
"It was the opposite for my mum and dad." Ron chimed in, stripping off his gloves and collapsing into a chair with a sigh. "Their contract was insanely restrictive – especially for mum. Mum and dad weren't even allowed to hold hands until they were married."
"Seriously?" Harry blinked.
"It was much more common back then," Neville added. "Ron's grandmother on his dad's side was a Black, remember. That alone explains a lot. And even the Weasleys – they used to be hardcore traditionalists. Believers in legacy, honour, purity… all of it."
"Of course, we're not like that anymore, thank Merlin," Ron said distastefully. "Mum and dad have always said that we're free to fall for whoever we wanted."
Harry hummed thoughtfully, as he leaned back on his hands.
"What about you?"
Neville cast an eye towards Ron before focusing back on Harry.
"What about me, Nev?"
"You're the head of two powerful houses, Harry, with no other siblings. Not to mention, Lord of the House of Black – the most renowned of all the Coloured Houses." He paused, choosing his words carefully. "There's going to be expectation. From every corner of the world."
"I don't live for the people, Neville." Harry said coolly.
Neville shifted uncomfortably at his tone but held his ground. "Your every action, every inaction will be scrutinised. Whether you like it or not. You don't need me to tell you that."
Harry didn't respond right away. His fingers drummed absently against the edge of the potting table as his mind drifted.
"No," he said eventually, voice low. "You're right. I don't need you to tell me that."
Neville hesitated. "And Hermione?"
Ron stiffened in his seat as Harry's eyes narrowed.
"What about her?"
"If… y'know, things work out… people will talk – "
"Neville."
Immediately, the once warm and playful atmosphere shifted. The cold steel in Harry's voice made both boys freeze, an unspoken warning laced beneath his tone.
Neville lifted his hands slightly in surrender. "I'm not them, Harry. You know that."
Harry sighed, his expression softening. "I know."
"And?" Neville pushed.
The black-haired teen looked out the window. "It's up to her. There's only so much pestering, if you would, I can do – "
The scrape of Ron's chair against the floor broke the mood like shattered glass.
"Just remembered," he muttered, the smile on his face a little too wide, a little too forced, "I told Seamus I'd meet him outside the quidditch pitch. The Claws are holding trials, I totally forgot! Chang dropped out and apparently they got a new seeker – "
"Ron – " Neville tried but, the gangly boy's foot was already one step out the door until only the slap of his footsteps disappearing was heard.
An awkward silence settled between the two boys before Neville broke it.
"You could've said something, Harry."
"Nobody told him to leave."
Neville sighed. "I didn't think he was still hung up on her."
Harry looked at Neville from the corner of his eye. "Maybe you shouldn't have brought her up, then."
"When else could I ask?" Neville threw back, frustration creeping in. "You're hardly around."
"I've been busy," Harry said, hopping down from the worktable and rolling his shoulders.
Neville watched him, searching his face.
"You mean you've been avoiding us," he said, shaking his head. "And here I thought you were still annoyed about that business with Hermione…"
Harry didn't reply, but the pause that followed spoke for itself.
"I get it," the blonde said eventually, his voice quieter now. "You've got more weight on your shoulders than the rest of us combined. Merlin knows I'd be scared, too."
"Scared?" Harry let out a humourless chuckle. "I can't afford to be scared, Neville. And Hermione and I are cool. We patched things up already."
"Harry, you can't win this war by yourself – "
"I have more of a chance than any of you."
Neville clenched his jaw. "What's that supposed to mean? We were there too, y'know? In the Room of Requirement, training. In the Ministry of Magic, fighting. Alongside everyone. Alongside you."
"It was luck." Harry said blankly, stunning Neville. "It should've been obvious from the get-go but I've realised now that it was a mistake letting you all come with me to the Ministry that day Voldemort revealed himself."
"Why?" Neville demanded.
"Because I put you all in unnecessary danger. Danger that should've easily been avoided, would've been avoided, if it wasn't for me. Danger that none of you should have seen let alone been ready for." His mind flashed back to the purple curse hitting Hermione in the abdomen. "Some of you very nearly died."
"But we didn't," Neville replied adamantly. "That battle helped us all. Made us realise who exactly we are fighting." He clenched his fists tightly before speaking quietly. "Made us all grow up."
"No."
Neville frowned.
"It put into perspective how unequipped you all."
Neville shook his head vehemently. "You're wrong!"
"Am I?" Harry's eyes sharpened as he turned to the other boy. "You were one of the only ones that had managed to hex a Death Eater that night. That sack of shit, Amycus Carrow, with the Petrification Hex."
"Yeah, I got him – "
" – Did you? Because that same fucker was the one who flung Luna across the wall not ten minutes later."
Neville stumbled back a step, his face draining of colour.
The memory hit him like a blow to the gut – the chaos of the battle, the screaming, the blinding flashes of curses – and then Luna, crumpled against the stone floor.
Blood matting her pale hair, her limbs twisted at grotesque angles, so still she hardly seemed alive.
Neville squeezed his eyes shut and gave his head a violent shake, as if he could knock the memory loose.
"My spell…" he rasped out, voice cracking, "my spell must've – must've worn off – "
" – Your spell work was fine. It's what you didn't do."
"You – You wanted me to kill him?" He whispered wide-eyed, reading in between the lines.
Harry's eyes glowed brightly. "We're at war."
" – I refuse to sink to their level!" Neville hissed, glaring daggers at the other teen. "I can't believe you'd even suggest that."
Harry's mouth twisted in a bitter smile. "Because I live in the reality, Neville. I hate that it took me this long to see it. People like them – they don't stop. They don't learn. They don't change. They have to be put down. Permanently."
Neville stared at the other teen incredulously. "I don't know what happened to you, Harry, but that mindset is wrong. Two wrongs do not make a right. We need rules, guidelines to guide us, to temper us. Otherwise – otherwise, we'll just be like them."
Harry smiled – sadly, almost pityingly.
"You keep telling yourself that." He shouldered his bag, adjusting it without hurry. "I will do what is necessary to end this war."
"Where are you going?" Neville demanded.
Harry glanced over his shoulder, green eyes glinting dangerously. "Power doesn't wait for anyone."
Neville shook his head in frustration; his voice laced with bitterness. "You're walking on a very fine edge, Harry. You must know that your actions will have consequences."
Harry paused, casting a look back at him – one that made the room feel colder.
"I would like to see them try."
CwD
Stepping out of Greenhouse Six, Harry let the door shut behind him.
The cool afternoon air brushed against his face, a pleasant reprieve from the stuffy, humid air he was subjected to. Shoving his hands deep into his pockets, he forced himself to relax the scowl he could feel tugging at his features.
He hadn't expected a confrontation – least of all with Neville – but maybe it had been overdue. There was a strange sense of lightness in his chest now, a weight he hadn't even realised he was carrying finally loosened. Speaking the truth aloud, no matter how harsh, had been necessary apparently.
Not that it had done much good.
Neville would never stray from his ideals, and Harry couldn't fault him for it. That kind of conviction had its place. In ordinary times, it was a virtue. But these weren't ordinary times. In war, convictions like Neville's could become a weakness.
For whoever wanted to fight alongside him, truly fight – they would need to see the world as he did.
Cold. Ruthless.
Neville could never be that person.
Lost in thought, Harry didn't notice the blur darting towards him until it was too late.
"Shi – " he cursed, stumbling back as something small and solid crashed into his knees.
He braced himself for the hard slam of the ground –
– but it never came.
Instead, he hovered in mid-air, suspended awkwardly. Blinking, he looked down to see a tiny pair of arms held upward, trembling slightly with effort.
"Bloody hell, Dobby," Harry groaned, "How many times have I told you not to do that?"
"Many times, Master Harry, many times!" Dobby squeaked, lowering him gently to the ground. "But Dobby comes with urgent news from the barmy old codger!"
Dobby's way of addressing Dumbledore was always said with such earnest, dramatic flair that Harry couldn't help but laugh but not this time.
Something in his elf's wide, blinking eyes told him this wasn't the moment for humour.
"What is it, Dobby?" Harry crouched down to meet his gaze. "Is it an attack? Voldemort?"
Dobby shook his head so fast his ears flapped. "No, Master Harry! No attack! Professor Dumbledore requests Master Harry's presence in the Conference Room immediately!"
Harry's brows pulled together. "Conference what – "
Before he could finish, Dobby grabbed his hand and began tugging him along.
"H-Hold on, will you?! Give me a sec – !"
" – It be urgent, sir!" Dobby squealed. "Mistress Black is already there!"
Harry stopped cold. "Mother's here?"
"Yes, Master Harry!"
At once, his pace shifted as Dobby struggled to keep up.
The students in the courtyard barely had time to react. As Harry passed, groups parted instinctively, conversations falling quiet. A few younger students stared, wide-eyed, as he swept past, tension crackling off him like lightning.
Some even shrank away but Harry didn't notice as he allowed Dobby to lead him, taking the stairs two at a time until they reached the third floor.
If Andromeda was here, it meant something serious had happened.
If anyone so much as touched a single hair on her head –
" – In here, Master Harry, in here!"
They stopped before a pair of tall double doors – polished wood, cold brass handles. Harry had seen it before but had never crossed their threshold.
Shaking off the unease and confusion, he squared his shoulders and stepped forward, pushing the doors open with purpose.
A long table was at the centre, a multitude of long-backed chairs on either side. At the head sat Dumbledore. Behind him, Harry sneered, was his sallow-looking shadow.
His gaze then turned to the other occupants, namely one Cassius Warrington and one Astoria Greengrass.
The older boy's nostrils briefly flared when Harry and his eyes met until cold indifference took over.
Astoria, however, made subtlety look like an extinct art.
The little twerp – as Harry had begun to refer to her privately – was stood beside Cassius, her glare searing. If looks could kill, Harry figured he'd be paste by now.
"Astoria," came the reprimand in a curt, cool tone.
At once, the younger Greengrass's expression flickered then immediately tempered as she looked away.
Harry's eyes shifted toward the speaker.
Matthias Greengrass.
There was no mistaking the bloodline. The sharp cheekbones. The glacial poise. And those electric blue eyes.
Matthias stood on Astoria's other side, closet to the head of the table.
But it was the man who stood oddly behind Matthias that made Harry's gaze sharpen and the hairs on the back of his neck stand in attention.
"Mr Potter," Dumbledore greeted, his voice warm and echoing gently in the silence. "Thank you for joining us."
Harry didn't answer.
His eyes moved past them all and landed on the one person who truly mattered.
"Mother."
Andromeda's mask fractured at once and her shoulders eased as she stood up from her seat. She lifted up her arms, instinctively reaching for him.
In a single fluid motion, Harry drew his wand and all it took was a soundless flick and the world blurred.
A privacy ward shimmered to life around them, washing the room away leaving only a dull hum that echoed around the space.
"Albus..." Snape growled.
"It is quite alright, Severus," Dumbledore sighed. "Harry has every right to his privacy."
" – It's hardly the time for his sentimental nonsense not to mention the blatant disrespect he is showing before two esteemed guests, Albus."
"Perhaps… however, if were basing that on that logic, then I daresay, young Harry has a higher standing then either Lord Greengrass or Lord Warrington." Dumbledore smiled.
Snape muttered darkly but didn't move, though his fingers twitched as if itching to dispel the magic. A firm glance from Dumbledore made him think better of it.
Inside the ward, Harry finally let the steel in his posture ease. He reached for Andromeda's hands, automatically running his fingers across the blackened scars on her hands. His expression was guarded but searching.
"What happened?" he asked, voice low. "Are you okay?"
Andromeda gently smiled, cupping his cheek. "Most would say hello first, dear."
Harry's eyes narrowed in response.
The woman sighed, fond exasperation bleeding through.
"I don't know, Hadrian," she said, her tone dipping quiet again. Then her gaze sharpened. "Though I seem to recall telling you to stay very far away from the Greengrass'."
Harry pursed his lips. The question was unasked but it was there and he knew he couldn't hide it from her.
"There was an… incident."
Harry then proceeded to tell Andromeda about what happened in the Great Hall between him, Astoria and Cassius.
Andromeda looked past him at the two in question, who, like the rest, was clearly trying to pretend they wasn't blatantly trying to watch them through the haze of the ward.
Not that they could see or hear anything.
Andromeda had come to quickly realise early on that Harry's magical prowess was absolute.
"I… see. And how was the situation resolved?"
Harry hesitated, something Andromeda immediately picked up on. "The oldest of three, Daphne, stepped in before anything drastic happened."
Andromeda raised an eyebrow. "And where is this Daphne?"
"I – I don't know…" Harry frowned, looking over his shoulder.
"And are you sure that's all that's happened?" Andromeda questioned, watching how Harry nodded slowly before his attention had shifted, more specifically to something behind her. "Sweetheart?"
Harry let out a humourless chuckle, his eyes darkening. "How did you find out?"
Andromeda glanced behind her before she sighed.
"I have my ways… What I did not appreciate was you keeping me in the dark about it."
Harry didn't answer. His eyes, hard and unblinking, remained fixed over her shoulder as though he could burn a hole through the person behind her if he stared hard enough.
Andromeda stepped into his line of sight, voice dropping low and cool. "Hadrian."
He looked at her, barely.
"We'll talk about keeping secrets later," she urged, tugging at his arm, "right now, the focus is here."
Harry's jaw clenched, but he gave a reluctant nod. The moment he turned, the sound of someone letting out a quiet, shaky breath was heard, something neither acknowledged.
"I had no choice," he said suddenly, his voice turning quiet. "I had to know you were safe."
Andromeda's face softened as she clasped his hand, her thumb brushing over his knuckles with loving affection.
"I know, baby, I know."
Harry drew a steadying breath, then released it as he squeezed her hand.
"Well then, let's find out what this meeting is really about."
The moment he lowered the ward, the atmosphere inside the conference chamber turned almost brittle.
No one uttered a word. The tension was tangible, clinging to the walls, lurking in the corners.
"Well," Harry began neutrally, "here I am. What seems to be the issue?"
Dumbledore cleared his throat. "Mr. Potter, Harry, thank you for coming on such short notice. Lord Greengrass and Lord Warrington requested this meeting in good faith. They wished to… clarify a past matter."
Harry's eyes slid to Matthias and Malakai; his expression turning unreadable.
"Clarify?" he echoed.
Matthias offered a gracious nod, then stepped out from behind the table and began a slow approach toward them with Malakai trailing behind.
"Indeed. We felt it appropriate that a certain recent interaction between our younger family members be addressed." Matthias bowed deeper than he had done with Andromeda and offered his hand, "It's good to finally meet you personally, Lord Potter, or is it Lord Black you prefer?"
Strangely, the Black family ring on Harry's finger pulsed with magic. It was subtle, a single thrum, yet it reverberated through him with startling depth, almost like recognition. As if the ancient magic in the ring had brushed against something familiar in Matthias.
It vanished as quickly as it came, but it left a strange stillness in its wake.
Almost without thinking, Harry reached forward and clasped the offered hand.
"Lord Black," he said firmly.
For the briefest instant, Matthias' electric-blue eyes gleamed – not with charm, but something darker. And though it was gone in a blink, Harry had just managed to catch it.
Unfettered rage – buried deep beneath layers of polish and poise.
"Lord Black it is, then," Matthias said smoothly, his smile too perfect, his grip a shade too firm before he let go. "May I introduce a dear friend of mine, Lord Malakai Warrington of the House of Warrington."
Malakai stepped forward with visible reluctance. Broad and thick bearded, he bowed lower than Matthias as protocol dictated of someone of a lesser house.
"Pleasure," he muttered in his baritone voice.
Andromeda's eyes narrowed at the man's failure to extend a hand.
"Ah yes…" Harry drawled; his tone laced with razor-edged amusement. "The man who felt the need to test my magic at the Gala."
Though his mouth was hidden behind his beard, the gravel in Malakai's voice gave him away as he rose to his full height. "A momentary lapse in judgement."
" – Funny how that seems to run in your family – "
"Harry…" Dumbledore's weary sigh cut in.
But Harry didn't so much as flinch. He ignored the sharp squeeze of warning from Andromeda's hand as he glanced at the scowling Cassius across the room, then returned his gaze to Malakai with open disdain.
"I would watch your words, boy." Malakai said quietly.
The threat wasn't missed by anyone, least of all Harry who's face brokered out into a dark grin as he slipped from Andromeda's grip and stepped forward.
"Perhaps this time you'll have the balls to test my magic whilst looking me in the eyes, Lord Warrington."
Malakai's face darkened. His wand was in his hand in an instant only to be met, just as swiftly, by Harry's own.
" – Enough!"
Dumbledore's magic thundered in a blinding wave. It surged from the headmaster like a storm, coiling through every inch of the room bathing it in deep, dense magic.
"Harry. Lower your wand, now." The old man said, his voice like cracked marble.
Harry remained firm.
As did Malakai, his brown eyes glowing brightly whilst he gripped his wand tightly.
" – Put it down, you insolent brat – "
" – Mr Potter," Dumbledore interrupted, cutting off Snape. "I will not ask you again."
"Hadrian…" Andromeda's voice was low, almost pleading.
She reached out again, her fingers brushing his. After a long moment, Harry exhaled through his nose and let the storm inside him settle. The magic humming beneath his skin retreated to an aching dull.
"Lord Warrington," Dumbledore began sharply, "may I remind you that I had welcomed you as a guest in good faith. However, if you threaten my apprentice again, I will remove you from the premises myself. You will not get a second warning."
Malakai hesitated only for a moment, sparing one last glare to Harry before stashing his wand away. "My sincerest apologies, Headmaster Dumbledore."
Dumbledore inclined his head and then turned his gaze towards the black-haired teen.
"Harry, you will act with decorum."
Harry sent a scowl at Dumbledore who acted as if it didn't faze him before ultimately mirroring Malakai.
"Now then…" the old man exhaled as he sat down, "Can we return back to the matter at hand?"
"Quite."
Harry turned his head to the voice and had to resist the urge to look unbothered as Matthias was staring at him as if he was gazing into his soul.
"It is after all, why we are here…"
CwD
"Gather round you cretins, the plan's complete!"
The chamber stirred at once. Dark figures in heavy robes drifted toward the wide mahogany table, its surface cluttered with curling parchment, half-burnt candles, and piles of battered and worn-out tomes. Tension simmered beneath the low hum of murmured voices as they all turned their gazes towards Rudolphus and Rabastan Lestrange.
"Wise of you to ask for our opinion on the upcoming conflict, Rudolphus." Malfoy mentioned mildly, taking his seat.
Nott glanced up. "Only took him the better part of three weeks."
"Well, I had to be meticulous, gentlemen," Rudolphus said, his lips curving up. "Not just any strike, is it?"
"No…" Nott smirked. "Suppose it isn't."
Amycus let out a mocking laugh from across the room. "Look at that! Finally squeezed out a plan with that pea-sized brain of yours, did you?"
"Fuck off, Amycus!" Rabastan hissed. bristling from beside his brother, "It's heaps better than whatever shit you would've come up with. It's no wonder the Dark Lord picked him and not some thick-headed fuckwit like you."
Alecto let out a shrill giggle and stood up beside her brother.
"Dementors touch you a little too deep, Rabastan? Must've, with all that shit dribbling out your mouth." She sneered, her eyes turning cruel. "Don't think any of us have forgotten the last time Rudolphus had a stroke of brilliance. The McKinnon raid ringing any bells?"
"Oh right!" Amycus's cruel grin widened. "The night where Rabastan went off and raped that little McKinnon girl while the rest of us were fighting off Dumbledore and half the Auror force… how can we ever forget such a shitshow?"
Rabastan gritted his teeth. "That's not what happened – "
" – You had one job, and you couldn't even manage that without letting your little dick ruin it eh, Rabastan? Imagine how much easier our lives would've been if we had access to the McKinnons Blood Magic. Never forget that it was because of you that we all got fucked over by the Dark Lord so don't act all pissy if we don't fall over ourselves trusting either one of you pricks to stick to a plan."
"My plan was ironclad." Rudolphus growled dangerously.
"Sure…" Amycus drawled, crossing his arms. "If it wasn't for you bending over backwards to accommodate Rabastan, it might've been."
Rudolphus's jaw clenched. His silence was thunderous.
"And even after all that," Matthew Gibbon drawled, pushing off the wall with a sigh, "the Dark Lord still entrusted Rudolphus with this plan. So really, Alecto, it doesn't matter what any of us thinks. That's unless you plan on disobeying him."
"Yes… how disappointing – "
"Watch your tongue, Carrow!" Rabastan snapped, taking a threatening step forward.
"Or what, Lestrange?!" Alecto fired back, matching his action.
Before the situation could escalate, the sharp crack of the doors slamming open silenced the chamber.
Every head turned.
Bellatrix stood in the doorway, as enticing and menacing as ever with Pyrites lingering behind. Her wand twirled between long fingers, each movement calculated, like a blade circling a throat. The faint scent of smoke and something darker clung to her as she strolled in with a scowl.
"This better be good, Rudy," she whispered with cold indifference. "You know exactly how much I hate being disturbed."
Alecto, wisely, bit her tongue at the sight of the new arrival. She shot one last glare at Rabastan, who returned it with icy fury, before slinking to her seat at the round table.
"And what exactly were you doing that caused you such an inconvenience, Bella?" Augustus Rookwood asked dryly. The man was standing beside the fireplace, fiddling around with something in his hand.
Bellatrix's sapphire eyes glowed dangerously. "If you know what's good for you, Augustus, you'll keep your big nose out of my business."
Rookwood smiled condescendingly at her response. The action irked her but she covered it with a sneer.
"Anytime now would be great, Rudy!" She snapped, crossing her legs as she took her seat.
Rudolphus exhaled slowly at the butchering of his name but when he spoke, his voice was steady.
"As you all know, the Dark Lord had entrusted me with the plan to eliminate Amelia Bones. It is finally completed."
Unfurling a long roll of parchment, Rudolphus flattened it across the table with deliberate care.
"Bones Manor."
Malfoy leaned down and promptly arched a brow. "And how did you manage to get a hold of the manor's schematics? Even I couldn't when I tried…"
Rudolphus hesitated before answering, then flicked a glance toward Rookwood. "Let's just say I had help. Unfortunately, it is not up to date. Likely about a century or two old."
"Fat lot of use that is then – "
" – It's better than anything else we have which is nothing, you idiot!" The older Lestrange snapped at John Avery who huffed in annoyance. "Now just shut up and listen!"
"Entry ways are located here and over here," Rudolphus continued, tapping the parchment. "There will be two squads. I'll announce who's in who later but one will be led by me and the other… Rabastan. Greyback and his half-breeds will provide interference from the perimeter."
"This is all well and good, Rudolphus but how will you breach the wards?" Nott asked with a raised eyebrow.
Rudolphus grinned.
"Augustus, if you would."
Rookwood sighed but nevertheless walked towards the table and pulled out a blackened horn with golden engravings carved on it.
"What Augustus has in his hands, my friends, is – actually… what was it again?"
"The Wail of Cecelia."
Lucius blinked. "The Wail of Cecelia…?"
"A legendary artifact of immense power, Lucius." Rookwood sneered. "A High Priestess of the Old Religion, from just before the time of Merlin, is said to have carved out a horn using the ribs of an ancient Banshee Queen and used it in her revenge against King Uther Pendragon after he had her entire family murdered during the Great Purge."
Rookwood's black beady eyes gleamed. "She used it to tear open the very foundation of Camelot's defences – its natural magical wards. The horn doesn't merely disrupt wards; it unravels the ley lines beneath them. It fractures the weave of the land's magic. Permanently. With the wards down, the Priestess raised hell on the kingdom and according to legend, was only stopped by a Dragonlord."
A hush of stunned silence fell the room.
" – What's a Dragonlord – "
" – Sounds farfetched," Timothy Wilkes muttered with a nervous laugh. "Right?"
"More like madness," Nott whispered, speechless. "No magical object should wield that kind of power."
"And you are correct. There is always a price," Rookwood smiled cruelly. "The cry of the horn is said to be so tormented, that it burns a fragment of the user's soul every time it is used…"
" – S-Soul? T-Then how… h-how would we…" Rabastan's eyes widened as he looked to the dark horn and then into the gleeful eyes of Rookwood. "ME?! I-I can't – I won't! And to think I wanted to use the bloody thing… are you mad?!"
"Shut your snivelling, Rabastan!" Rudolphus snarled. Turning, he looked back at Rookwood with uncertain eyes. "Well? Surely there's an alternative other than using the thing ourselves…?"
Rookwood clicked his tongue. "The Imperius Curse. Spelling a Squib or preferably, a mudblood child would work."
"Why a child?" Gibbon asked with a frown.
"Because they have no mental defences but have an abundance of untapped magic. They are perfect vessels. Nevertheless, you do not need to worry about that. I will handle it when it's time."
Rabastan let out a long sigh of relief.
"How did you acquire it, Augustus?" Malfoy questioned, greed blatantly bleeding through his voice.
"Not easily. During my time as an Unspeakable, I had stolen it. It was protected with such heavy enchantments… I had no choice but to steal it," he chuckled. "At the time, I hadn't known what it was. Only with the Dark Lord's help, did we figure the power we held in our possession. Since then, he has entrusted it to me and only me, Lucius." He said to the sneering blonde.
Rudolphus cleared his throat. "Bones will have the entire place crawling with Aurors however, both mine and my brother's groups should be plenty enough to take them out – "
" – And the Hit Wizards? You don't suppose they'll just stand by idly whilst you go and murder the Minister of Magic?" Malfoy said with a grating voice.
"I have already considered the Hit Wizards – " Rudolphus tried.
" – This is the first time I'm hearing this," Nott interrupted, perking up in his seat. "There will be Hit Wizards?"
"The ICW have sent over a few of their Hit Wizards to provide additional protection to the Minister," Malfoy said with a sour look. "No doubt thanks to Dumbledore's pestering at the last meeting."
" – The Hit Wizards are no issue – "
"No issue?" Nott cut in with a cold laugh, earning a sharp glare. "They're the ICW's elite, you fool! Stronger than most Aurors, completely untouchable by national law, and they only answer to the Confederation. You have severely miscalculated this plan of yours, Lestrange."
"Spare me the sob, Thaddeus! You sayin' me and my brother can't handle a few bloody Hit Wizards?" Rabastan barked, fists clenched.
"No," Nott said evenly. "I've seen you fight. One or two won't stop you easily."
"Then what is it?!"
"Bones, you pillock." Malfoy sighed. "Bones' skill with her wand is second to none."
"Lucius is right. She was trained by Alastor Moody. Remember him? The man that did you both in? Together?" Nott shook his head, looking between Rudolphus and Rabastan. "If you walk into that manor high on idiocy, you'll be hit from three angles before your feet touches the ground. It'll be suicide."
"Fine!" Rudolphus snapped, slamming his hands on the table. "We'll have Bella join us."
The room fell silent.
Bellatrix, who had been half-listening to the back and forth, perked up at the mention of her name.
"Will I now?" she said brightly, eyes gleaming. "Excellent. I've been dying for some fun!"
Rudolphus smirked, scanning the faces around the table as one by one they all nodded in reluctant agreement.
"It's settled then! With Bella with us, there is no way we'd – "
"No."
The single word cut through the chamber like a knife.
Rudolphus turned sharply to Rookwood.
"What do you mean, no?"
"The Dark Lord was explicit," Rookwood replied, his tone calm but unyielding. "Bella is not to be deployed until his return."
Bellatrix's face twisted as her wand released dangerous sparks onto the table.
"My lady…" Pyrites spoke cautiously from behind her, "need I remind you of the last time you disobeyed the Dark Lord?"
A flicker of a memory passed through Bellatrix's mind – emerald flames and a face far too beautiful for the world.
Her lips pressed into a tight line.
A moment later, she huffed petulantly, stood up and stomped away from the table like a furious child. Some Death Eaters who were standing, scrambled to part in her wake as she swept from the room, slamming the door behind her with Pyrites hurrying after.
"Great," Rabastan muttered, shooting a glare at Rookwood before turning to his older brother who looked increasingly irritated. "What now?"
"I… may have an alternative," Nott said carefully, rubbing his chin. "Someone just as powerful as Bella though I will need to confirm if he is available. He's on the Continent right now."
"I'm counting on you Thaddeus," Rudolphus said, shooting the older man a look.
"Yes, yes," Nott muttered dismissively, "But on the other hand, what will you do about the reinforcements that the Ministry will no doubt send? You'll quickly be outnumbered."
"That's the point, old man!" Rabastan laughed. "More to kill!"
The Death Eaters roared in assent, swinging their fists are up in the air.
"Bones will be dead by then." Rudolphus said nonchalantly. "Besides, they will be too busy preoccupied with Greyback and his pack."
Lucius studied the map and frowned. "And what if the Order gets wind of this?"
"If the Order shows up, I will order Greyback to swing by and engage them. Judging from that mishap last month, they didn't do so well against him."
"Charming," snorted Gibbon. "Those animals can't tell the difference between ally or foe during battle. Glad I ain't part of this suicide mission."
"Fuck off, Gibbon – "
" – You're forgetting the worst-case scenario." Lucius interrupted tapping the table with his finger to gain attention.
"Dumbledore," answered Rookwood with a frown.
The room tensed.
"We assume," Rudolphus said carefully, "he won't be there. But if he is we – "
"You withdraw," Rookwood said simply. "The Dark Lord's orders were clear. He doesn't want to keep breaking any more people out of Azkaban and you all most definitely will be caught if Dumbledore arrives."
"The plan is to take care of Bones before the old fool turns up," the older Lestrange sighed. "But yes… we'll withdraw."
"You'll need to divert his attention elsewhere…" Avery spoke up. "A simultaneous attack elsewhere?"
"Yes, that would work." Nott replied, rubbing his chin.
"Another squad then." Rudolphus nodded, unrolling a piece of parchment. "Suggestions?"
"Hogsmede?"
"No." Rookwood answered immediately.
"Reasoning?" Questioned Nott with a raised eyebrow.
"Not yet," said Rookwood cryptically.
"Why not do one of our regulars?" Goyle senior asked gruffly.
"Because we need Dumbledore to turn up there. He wouldn't show up for some random attack on muggles even if he's desperate. That's the Order's job."
"Then what?"
"Diagon Alley?"
The room went quiet again.
"That's insane," scoffed Malfoy.
Nott nodded slowly. "Our forces would be spread thin – "
"As will theirs," Gibbon said interestedly. "An attack on the Alley will no doubt bring Dumbledore running."
"My businesses – " Malfoy tried.
" – Will survive a minor inconvenience, Lucius."
"There is risk…" Nott said quietly. "An attack on the Alley can influence the Wizengamot's future decisions on how they handle this war."
"And that risk will be mitigated once Bones is gone and Thicknesse is in her place." Rudolphus answered, his grin widening. "Don't you see? This is perfect! An attack on the Alley is unprecedented! They wouldn't expect it even if it'll just be a distraction."
"This can have adverse effects," Nott sighed. "Lucius and I will have to work overtime if this doesn't go to plan as the Progressives and Neutrals will no doubt push for harsher consequences on us. Tread carefully, Rudolphus."
"Make sure to stay far away from my businesses." Malfoy warned with gritted teeth.
"Is that everything then?"
"And suppose Potter shows up, wand blazing?"
Laughter broke around the table.
"Might've been your funniest joke yet, Crabbe!" Avery guffawed, clapping the wide man on the back.
" – Then you incapacitate and incapacitate only." Rookwood said coldly.
And like a switch, the amusement drained from the room.
"Y-You can't be serious?" Rabastan asked incredulously. "There's no way Potter shows up!"
"Hope he doesn't. You weren't there when Bella attacked Andromeda Black at her residence. Not to mention the destruction Potter caused when he arrived," Rookwood growled. "You know what he is and the power of his heritage. If you're smart, you won't underestimate him."
"He is merely a fucking boy, Augustus!" Rabastan snarled. "A boy high on a power-trip!"
"Your foolish arrogance will be your undoing, Rabastan, I won't tell you again. Nonetheless, we have our orders form the Dark Lord regarding Potter. I trust they do not need to be repeated?"
Rabastan said nothing but nodded reluctantly.
"Then I will leave," said Rookwood. "I believe you can handle the rest, Rudolphus."
"You know, this whole operation would be easier if you stayed for the battle Augustus." Rudolphus said, irritation seeping into his voice.
"I will fulfil my role and that is to get you through the wards," Augustus smirked over his shoulder. "That's unless you think you can't handle the mission yourselves?"
"Slimy arsehole," Rudolphus scowled before turning around. "Let's go over how we plan on getting out…"
CwD