It had been a rather turbulent summer for Harry, one he found he'd
had little time to reflect upon until it had come to an end and he
found himself once more returning to Durmstrang.
For much of it, he'd been busying himself with his homework and
pondering what had happened during his venture into the Chamber
of Secrets, and though Galanis had told him not to, he couldn't
ignore the changes he felt within himself.
He'd understood what the healer had told him; his logic toward the
magic of basilisk and thunderbird being sound, and seemingly
correct.
Already, Harry felt a stronger connection to his Elemental Magic and
wielded it with much more ease than he ever had before.
His parselmagic also seemed much easier to access, but it had been
his thoughts on the effect of Fawkes' magic that had occupied
Harry's mind.
' It could also mean that you are less likely to become sick and heal
quicker from injuries.'
Being unable to resist putting the theory to the test, Harry had done
so and had been astounded by the results.
Before going to bed only a few nights prior, he'd used his wand to cut
quite deeply into his leg and watched in fascination as the wound
bled for less than a minute before sealing up and forming a thick
scab.
When he had woken up in the morning, all that remained was a faint
pink line of a scar, all but proving Galanis's thoughts on the matter.
Not that Harry would be pushing the theory to its limits.
If the small abrasions he received healed so quickly, he would be
more than content with that.
He wasn't about to purposely break his bones or wound himself
further to test the ability.
Still, despite all of this, it had been the last thing they had discussed
that had plagued him most, and something Harry still lacked answers
to.
Even after the letter he'd received this very morning from Galanis,
Harry would not pretend to understand what the anomaly the healer
had discovered was.
Dear Mr Potter,
I apologise for how long it has taken me to write to you regarding my
findings during our last meeting. I wished to be able to fully explain to
you what it is I found, but unfortunately, for the first time in my long
career, I am truly stumped.
I suspect, as you yourself speculated, that the anomaly within you is
indeed a product of sorts from the night the Dark Lord attempted to
murder you, but I do not believe it is connected to the magic of your
mother's protection.
No, this is indeed something else entirely.
Although I am unable to currently identify what the magic is, I will
continue my investigation with the promise that I will explore every
possible avenue to ascertain its origin.
What I can confidently and categorically assure you of is that this
magic is no danger to you. On the contrary, I strongly believe it is
benefitting you, and could perhaps be the reason you survived your
unplanned ritual.
You indeed did die, but this piece of magic did not, and I am of a
mind to say with some certainty that it assisted in anchoring the
magic that brought you back.
Nonetheless, we will continue to monitor you as planned.
You have my apologies for being unable to offer you answers of
clarity, but this indeed something unprecedented.
Do feel free to write or visit with any questions you have.
Yours Sincerely,
Healer Galanis
It was frustrating to not have the answers he sought, but Harry was
grateful for the time the healer was taking to help him identify the
anomaly, though he suspected the man would not find the answer on
his own.
Harry had been considering it carefully, and even if he couldn't
identify what it was either, he strongly suspected it was the reason
he'd inherited the parseltongue ability, and even the many visions
he'd seen throughout his life.
The magic was undoubtedly an essence of Voldemort of sorts, a
realisation that made Harry equally repulsed as he was curious.
Despite the fact that the Dark Lord had murdered his parents, there
was no denying that the man was quite the wizard in his own right,
and to have something of that his own magic was feeding off, Harry
was grateful for the unintended gift.
Nevertheless, he could not allow himself to be consumed only by
what had and was happening within him.
To distract himself, he'd visited Sirius a few times over the summer,
and it appeared that the man truly was trying to make amends,
something Harry was willing to give him the opportunity to do.
Sirius was fun to be around, didn't take anything too seriously, and
wanted only to be a part of Harry's life.
Yes, he'd made mistakes and found himself in Azkaban for his
foolishness, but Harry had no doubt his godfather was indeed
innocent of the crimes he'd been imprisoned for.
He'd loved Lily and James Potter, and the pain in his eyes when he
spoke of them was not something that even the greatest of actors
could fake.
No, Sirius may have been guilty of negligence and acting rashly, but
Harry believed the man when he declared that he would have given
his life for theirs.
The relationship between the two of them was still a work in
progress, but Sirius was certainly doing his all to strengthen it.
Pushing the thoughts of his once wayward godfather aside, Harry
smiled as he recounted his visit with Lucinda.
They had talked, they had danced, and Harry had evidently made
quite the impression on Draikon who had insisted he remained with
them as long as he wished.
Harry had stayed for only a few days but planned to visit longer next
time.
His hand drifted to his chest, but not the scar he often felt to remind
him of his near death, but to the pendant Svetlana had given him
upon his arrival.
' No, it is yours to keep,' Draikon insisted when Harry attempted to
return it to him. 'You are welcome here whenever you wish, Mr
Potter.'
It was quite the gesture, and one that was gratefully received.
Harry had enjoyed his time amongst the vampires. However, before
he allowed his thoughts to be consumed by his time with the clan,
they inevitably shifted to the previous day, and perhaps the most
interesting meeting of all.
Gellert Grindelwald had not been what Harry had expected at all.
Flashback
Nurmengard was quite the imposing fortress and had once played
host to hundreds of prisoners during the years of Grindelwald's rise,
but now, it housed only one man.
"There's nothing to be nervous about," Cassiopeia assured Harry.
"I'm not nervous," Harry replied, gesturing for her to lead the way to
where the infamous Dark Lord was kept.
They walked in silence to the highest cell of the prison, and Harry
found it hard to associate the old, rather frail man that greeted them
with one of the most powerful wizards in recent history.
Grindelwald was thin, and what remained of his grey hair was
scraggly and limp. The gleam in his blue eyes, however, was
prominent and spoke of a man of wit and intelligence.
"You must be Harry," Grindelwald greeted him with a toothy smile,
offering a slightly trembling hand.
Harry tentatively accepted the proffered limb.
He had spoken the truth when he said he wasn't nervous, but
Grindelwald was undoubtedly someone to be cautious around.
He had plunged much of the world into war, and though he was in no
position to do so now, there was always a potential for danger where
men like him were concerned.
"I can't say I ever expected to meet you," Harry replied. "Just about
everyone believes you are dead."
Grindelwald chuckled.
"If Albus had the guts to do what he should have, I would be."
Harry nodded his agreement.
He would not be attempting to lock Voldemort up when the time
came for them to meet.
The man would suffer unspeakable agony before Harry granted him
the sweet release of death.
"Why have you been helping me?" Harry asked, seeing no reason to
stand on ceremony.
Grindelwald smiled once more.
"I respect bluntness," he mused aloud. "Albus could never speak
freely without his blasted riddles and skirting around difficult topics.
Let me ask you, Harry, why do you think I would help you?"
Harry's gaze shifted towards Cassiopeia and Grindelwald chuckled.
"Partly," he agreed. "I would help Cassiopeia with anything that is in
my limited capability to do so, but not entirely in this case. I have my
own reasons, one of them being your grandfather, Charlus."
"My grandfather?"
Grindelwald nodded.
"Oh, he was certainly no friend of mine, quite the opposite in fact,"
Grindelwald explained. "We met numerous times on the battlefield as
he opposed me, and though I will not pretend that he did not cause
me endless amounts of headaches and frustration, he earned my
undying respect. He even gave me a souvenir to remember him by,"
he added, pointing to a thin, purple scar beneath his right eye. "I
daresay that if Albus had not intervened when he did, it would have
been myself and Charlus Potter that the war would have perhaps
been settled on."
"I didn't know that," Harry murmured. "That's not spoken of in any
book I've read on the war.
Grindelwald snorted derisively.
"Books will only provide you with limited information," he pointed out.
"No, you should always consult the people who lived through events
if such a thing is possible. The point is, the respect I have for your
grandfather, and my fondness for Cassiopeia are the reasons I
initially agreed to help you."
"Initially?"
Grindelwald nodded.
"Despite us never meeting, Cassiopeia has kept me informed of your
progress, of the young man you are growing into, and all the ups and
downs you have experienced. For one locked away as I am with so
few visitors, it means a lot to have heard of you these past years. I
do not merely feel obligated to help you, but I want to. I wish to see
you live through what is undoubtedly coming your way, for you to
thrive whilst your enemies perish. That is why I am helping you and
gave you everything I could to see that you are successful."
"The spells and the hidden rooms at Durmstrang."
Grindelwald nodded.
"And the wand."
Harry frowned; the cold feeling of the wand Dumbledore had given
making itself known as it was mentioned.
"It belonged to you."
Grindelwald shook his head.
"No, it never belonged to me nor Albus even though he won its
allegiance," he explained. "The Elder Wand can only truly be wielded
by those it was intended for."
"The Peverells?"
Gellert seemed surprised that Harry knew that name, but he
composed himself quickly and laughed heartily.
"You are a sharp boy," he praised. "What do you know of the
Peverells?"
"Not much," Harry sighed. "I know that I am related to them."
"Their blood flows through your veins," Grindelwald confirmed, "as
does their magic."
Another wave of cold washed over Harry.
"That's why Draikon said my magic is familiar to him," he whispered
thoughtfully. "He is an old vampire that told me he was caught
hunting by a Peverell in Britain, but he was spared. He seemed
surprised I was related to them."
"Because it is believed that they died out," Cassiopeia interjected.
"But they did not," Grindelwald pointed out. "The reason I say is that
the wand did not belong to me, is because it belongs to you."
"Is it truly the Elder Wand?" Cassiopeia questioned.
Grindelwald nodded.
"It is," he confirmed. "Isn't it, Harry?"
Harry removed the wand from the holster he kept it in.
He had not taken much time to familiarise himself with it as much as
he probably should have, but the way it felt when he held it spoke
volumes to how compatible it was to him.
Swallowing deeply, he nodded.
"It is," he confirmed. "I also have the cloak, but not the stone."
"You have the two that are most useful," Grindelwald pointed out,
"but uniting all three would be for the best."
"Then I'd be the Master of Death?" Harry snorted.
"Perhaps not," Grindelwald said dismissively, "but with magic like
this, we can never be certain of what will or will not be. I expect the
results of doing so will be quite extraordinary."
"Do you believe the story?" Harry asked curiously.
"Of the three brothers? I do," Grindelwald confirmed. "I have seen
wondrous things in this world, Harry, some terrible and some truly
marvellous. If there is magic that gives life, does that not mean there
must be an equal opposite? We have creatures such as phoenixes,
and dragons. Is it so hard to believe that Death exists as a sentient
being?"
Harry cautiously shook his head.
"I don't think it can be dismissed," he agreed. "I'm just not certain
that I would be considered his champion if I united them."
"Something neither of us can be certain of until you do so,"
Grindelwald pointed out. "Regardless, the wand and the cloak are
both very real, and can offer significant advantages to you. I urge
you to familiarise yourself with them intimately. Your blood is the key
for the wand to work as it should. Voldemort is an exceptionally
dangerous man, Harry. Never underestimate what he is capable of
and willing to do to be victorious."
Harry nodded his understanding as he slid the Elder Wand back up
his sleeve.
"I won't," he said firmly. "But him and his followers should not
underestimate what I am willing to do. I am not Dumbledore. I have
no intention of capturing anyone when the time comes."
Grindelwald nodded approvingly.
"Good," he praised. "Now, whilst you are here, why don't you show
me some of the things you have been working on from what myself
and Albus provided you with?"
End Flashback
Harry had been unsure of how he felt having been unwittingly tutored
by Grindelwald since his schooling had begun. The name was mud
at Durmstrang, not only because of his uprising in Europe and the
many that had died because of it, but also because he was one of
only a few people to be expelled from the rather liberal school.
Nonetheless, Harry was pragmatic enough to understand just what
an opportunity he had.
Despite all that Grindelwald had done, there was no denying that he
was indeed an exceptional wizard. Amongst the very best of his
generation.
Having spent a few hours under his tutelage during his visit with the
man, any doubts that Harry had were no longer present.
He would be a fool to not accept the offered help.
In only a few hours, he had learned so much from the Dark Lord, and
would only become better the more time he spent with him.
Not that it was something he would discuss with any other.
The revelation alone that Grindelwald still lived would likely cause an
uprising of sorts, and the man would be dragged from his cell to face
the justice of the mob.
Harry could not allow that, not when Grindelwald would be so useful
to him.
"There you are," Summerbee huffed as she peered into the cabin
Harry was occupying. "Why didn't you wait for us?"
"Sorry," Harry offered with a sigh. "I had a lot on my mind and just
wanted to board the ship."
"Is something wrong?"
Harry shook his head as the others entered, and his mood
brightened immediately.
Lucinda he had seen over the summer, but none of the others, and
now that they were here, he was able to not focus on all that had
happened and had been plaguing him over the past couple of
months.
"Rough transformation, Wolfie?" he asked Cain with a frown.
The werewolf shrugged.
"Something like that," he murmured.
He looked more tired than usual, the bags under his eyes darker
than Harry had ever seen, but the boy offered him a reassuring
smile.
Harry made a note to himself to talk to Cain later when they were
away from the rest of the group.
Something was bothering his friend; of that he had no doubt.
"How was your Summer, Bumblebee?"
Eleanor narrowed her eyes at him.
"You know I don't like that name!"
Lucinda snorted.
"That will only make him call you it more," she pointed out. "You get
used to it."
"Thank you, Princess," Harry replied.
Lucinda bared her fangs at him in irritation.
"It's not too soon to put you in your place."
"Promise?" Harry returned with a wink.
"Just get a room, will you," Eleanor huffed.
"I've seen her room," Harry announced. "It's cold in there."
"You've seen her room?" Cain asked curiously. "Now this I have to
hear."
"I visited Princess during the summer," Harry explained with a shrug.
"You visited a vampire clan?" Cain scoffed in disbelief. "You must be
out of your mind."
"This is Harry we're talking about," Summerbee pointed out. "You
didn't visit me."
"Or me," Jonas piped up.
"Well, I wouldn't expect you to visit me," Cain chuckled. "My lot are
less friendly than any vampire clan."
"I am here!" Lucinda growled.
"So, did you finally turn him?" Ana giggled.
Lucinda rolled her eyes as she folded her arms.
"Of course not," she grumbled. "I couldn't think of anything worse
than having him around forever, even if my mother really likes him."
"Most of the others liked me," Harry interjected. "Your mother just
has an extra soft spot for me."
"Only because you flirt with her!"
"I do not," Harry denied.
"You do!"
"Do not!"
"It's like watching an immature, married couple," Cain commented.
"How the hell did you end up visiting a vampire clan? It's not like
they're very accommodating to anyone, especially humans."
Harry shrugged.
"I was invited," he answered simply.
Cain frowned as he looked towards Lucinda.
"Our clan leader was interested in meeting Harry, so he was allowed
to visit."
"And I can go back any time I like," Harry added, showing the
talisman Draikon insisted he kept. "I might ask your mother if I can
move in for the whole of next summer."
"You will not!" Lucinda warned.
"Oh? You weren't so mean when we were dancing together."
"You danced together?" Ana questioned.
Lucinda finally crumbled and hid her face in her hands.
"I'm going to kill him," she declared.
"She's a good dancer," Harry continued, undeterred by the threat.
"Honestly, I enjoyed my time there, even if most of them looked at
me like I'm a snack."
"To us, you are a snack," Lucinda reminded him.
"I forgot about that," Harry chortled.
The others shook their heads at him.
"How could you forget they see you as food?"
Harry shrugged.
"Well, she hasn't tried to bite me," he replied, nodding towards
Lucinda.
"Not yet I haven't."
Harry offered the vampire a smile.
He truly had missed this whilst he'd been away at Hogwarts for the
previous year, and he was very much looking forward to returning to
Durmstrang where he would be with his friends.
"Well, when are you going to visit me away from school?" Eleanor
asked.
"Is this you inviting me?"
The blonde nodded.
"Then I will come whenever you like," Harry answered.
Eleanor smiled brightly.
"My grandmother will love you."
"Watch out, Harry might just flirt with her," Lucinda warned.
"No, if I did that, your mother would be jealous."
Lucinda growled as she launched from her seat and grabbed the
chuckling Harry by his collar before wrestling him to the floor.
"Well, it's been a while since I found myself here," he sighed. "You're
really hurting my ribs."
Lucinda was gazing at his neck hungrily, her eyes flashing brightly as
she did so.
"It has been a while," she agreed breathily. "Remember, one day, I
might not be able to restrain myself."
She released him and stood, and Harry took a few deep breaths,
nursing his torso as he stood, his smile unwavering.
Yes, he had missed this, even the regular death threats from the
vampire.
Cassiopeia scowled as she spotted the beetle crawl under the door
to enter the room. As instructed, Rita Skeeter had been keeping her
abreast of the goings-on in Britain, but until now, her reports had
come via post.
Rita, however, had insisted that they needed to meet to discuss
something of importance, something the journalist was not
comfortable putting in writing.
As such, Cassiopeia had rented a private room in the Hog's Head,
ensuring that none could hope to overhear anything discussed
between them.
A few privacy and security spells had seen to that, and she could not
help but notice that Skeeter looked much more nervous than usual
after she had transformed.
That could merely be attributed to the woman's position of being
beholden to herself and Harry, but Cassiopeia suspected there was
more to it.
"Thank you for seeing me," Skeeter sighed. "I have come across
something that will be of interest to you but could be dangerous to
know. Fudge is certainly doing all he can to cover it up."
Cassiopeia's curiosity was certainly piqued and she gestured for Rita
to continue.
"Barty Crouch has been admitted to St Mungo's."
Cassiopeia snorted as she shook her head.
"I do not see why this will be of interest to me."
"Usually, I would agree," Rita replied, "but it is the nature of his
admission. He is in the Janice Thickey ward. I don't know how
familiar you are with Barty. He may be many things, but he has
always been of sound mind. For him to find himself there, something
significant must have happened."
"Has it?"
Rita nodded worriedly.
"He is claiming that he has been under the Imperius Curse of his
son."
Cassiopeia frowned in confusion and Rita huffed irritably.
"Crouch only ever had one son, and he died in Azkaban several
years ago," the latter explained. "It caused quite the stir when it was
revealed that he was a Death Eater."
"A Death Eater?"
The news certainly took Cassiopeia by surprise.
Rita nodded.
"At the time, Crouch was the Head of the Department of Magical
Law Enforcement."
"He locked up his own son?"
"He did," Rita confirmed. "Barty has always done everything by the
book, which makes everything that has happened only more
suspicious. He is now claiming that as a dying wish for his wife, he
switched his son out of Azkaban for her. Fudge is having none of it."
"Do you believe him?"
"I do," Rita replied severely. "I've seen him. He is unwell from his
ordeal, but he is not a raving lunatic. Fudge is keeping him guarded.
No one is allowed in other than healers."
"So, the Minister wishes to keep him quiet," Cassiopeia mused
aloud.
Rita nodded her agreement.
"It gets worse," she sighed. "Earlier today, Fudge met with Lucius
Malfoy. The two are close, as you know, and the Minister saw fit to
discuss the matter with him."
"Then Crouch Sr is all but dead," Cassiopeia murmured thoughtfully.
"Both Crouch's are a loose end for him that he will wish to keep
silent, unless he was already aware of the son's status."
"He did not seem to be surprised or alarmed when Fudge told him,"
Rita explained.
"Then he knows," Cassiopeia huffed. "Which means that he has
either been in contact with the son, or worse."
"Or worse?"
Cassiopeia shook her head.
"Think nothing of it for now," she insisted. "There is more danger to
this knowledge than you can possibly know. If I were you, I would
mention it to no one."
"I wasn't planning to," Rita snorted humourlessly. "I brought it to you
because I believed you would wish to know."
"I am grateful," Cassiopeia offered, pondering just how she could
use the information.
"Do you believe Malfoy will have Crouch killed?" Rita asked.
"Undoubtedly," Cassiopeia replied bluntly. "His alleged involvement
with the Dark Lord is well known. If Crouch Jr is recognised publicly
and he is apprehended, Fudge will not be able to prevent a public
inquiry. It is too risky for Lucius to risk."
Rita grimaced at the thought.
"You seem to be rather calm about this," she pointed out. "Are you
not aware of the circumstances surrounding Crouch Jr's arrest?"
Cassiopeia frowned.
"I can't say that I am."
"Then it will only become more of an interest to you as it could
possibly mean that Harry is in danger."
"How?" Cassiopeia demanded immediately, tensing at the
insinuation.
"It wasn't until after the war and many of the Death Eaters had been
put on trial that he was identified," Rita began. "Bellatrix and the
Lestranges had been sent to Azkaban the week before along with
the other prominent supporters who did not manage to avoid being
prosecuted."
"Someone identified Crouch as a Death Eater," Cassiopeia deduced.
"Exactly," Rita confirmed. "Almost all had refused to name any
others, but that changed during the trial of Igor Karkaroff."
"Karkaroff identified Crouch?"
Rita nodded.
"In front of the entire Wizengamot whilst being questioned by Barty
Sr."
Cassiopeia cursed under her breath.
"So, he will likely go after Karkaroff."
"I would not put it past him," Rita sighed. "Crouch was identified as
one of the Death Eaters that tortured Frank and Alice Longbottom.
He admitted it and to killing several muggles along with some
witches and wizards."
"And he would have gotten away with it if it wasn't for Karkaroff,"
Cassie mused aloud.
Durmstrang as a school was as safe as any place could be, but if
Crouch had broken free and made contact with Voldemort, which
certainly was not beyond the realm of possibility, Rita could very well
be right.
Harry could be in grave danger.
Karkaroff was now a liability to him, and Cassiopeia could not let that
stand.
"What was Crouch's reaction when Karkaroff identified him?"
"He wailed like a child," Rita answered. "He called for his mother."
"That doesn't sound like someone capable of murder."
"It doesn't," Rita agreed. "What are you thinking?"
"I'm thinking that the man is mentally fragile, and any time amongst
the Dementors would not have done him any favours. It is hard to
imagine he managed to hold onto much or any of his sanity."
"I would say that he was already far gone during his trial," Rita
responded darkly. "He said nothing until he was given the
veritaserum, and after the effects had worn off, he laughed openly
about what he had done. There was no remorse."
Cassiopeia hummed, tapping her finger atop the table whilst she
considered her next course of action.
"I don't suppose anyone will be looking for him."
"According to everyone other than the Minister and those in the
know, Crouch Jr is dead and buried," Rita clarified.
Cassiopeia shook her head.
Crouch being on the loose was not good.
The man was likely as unpredictable as he was dangerous and were
he to somehow gain access to Durmstrang and Karkaroff, it is likely
he would seek Harry out also.
Cassie's jaw tightened at the thought.
"It is unlikely that any of this would be believed without evidence,"
she murmured. "For now, I'd like you to see what else you can dig up
for me. Look into the Crouch's and keep an eye on Fudge and St
Mungo's. I do not think the latter will yield much, but it is best to
cover all basis."
Rita nodded her understanding as she should.
"What will you do?" she asked curiously.
"Whatever I deem to be necessary to keep Harry safe," Cassiopeia
vowed darkly.
Rita swallowed deeply.
"I will be in touch with anything I find," she assured Cassiopeia
before transforming into a beetle once more and crawling out of the
room via the bottom of the door.
Cassiopeia remained where she was for some minutes, mulling over
everything she had learned in the past minutes.
She could not say for certain how likely the worst-case scenario she
had considered was a plausible outcome, but where Harry was
concerned, she was taking no chances.
Taking her leave of the Hog's Head, she nodded to herself, a plan
already forming for how she could mitigate this latest, unwelcome
development.
Albus furrowed his brow as he attempted to read over the latest
exam results his received from Madame Marchbanks.
They had been on his desk for several days now, but with the recent
meeting he'd had with Cornelius still plaguing his mind, he'd not
been able to focus on them.
As he had done many times in the days since, his gaze shifted to the
still empty portrait he was awaiting the occupant's return of, and he
shook his head.
The headmaster had begun making discreet enquiries about Barty
Crouch, but he had been unable to glean any new information from
what the minister had given him.
As he had suspected, few had been made privy to what had
happened.
On his behalf, Alastor had spoken with Amelia Bones who merely
believed that Barty was taking an extended leave of absence for his
health.
For the time being, Amos Diggory had indeed been placed in charge
of the Department of International Magical Cooperation as per
Albus's suggestion, a small victory on his part, but a victory,
nonetheless.
Madame Umbridge would not be pleased by the appointment, but
with her newfound ambition to become a member of staff at
Hogwarts, Albus did not believe she would stew for long.
It concerned the headmaster still at how determined the woman was
to find herself within the walls of the castle, but until she managed to
find a way to do so or he believed she was close to achieving it, he
would put it to the back of his mind.
No, Madame Umbridge was not what was concerning Albus in this
moment. It was the claims that Barty had allegedly made during his
breakdown.
His attempts to speak with the man had been rebuffed by the healers
at St Mungo's, each of them claiming the man was too unwell for
visitors. Their words given in a pointed, rehearsed manner.
They were being silenced on the matter, undoubtedly by Cornelius
who was seemingly doing all he could to ensure the news of Barty
was not made known to the public.
Albus suspected that even now, the minister had regretted informing
even him.
Madame Umbridge certainly hadn't wished for it to happen.
Albus was pulled from his thoughts by a gentle cough, and once
more, his attention shifted to the portrait that was no longer
unoccupied.
"What news, Dilys?" he enquired.
The former, celebrated healer and headmistress shook her head.
"Barty crouch was declared dead this afternoon, Headmaster," she
informed him. "I apologise for the delay in reporting it to you, but I
wished to establish the facts before doing so."
Albus deflated in his chair, nodding his understanding.
"It is just as I believed," he sighed. "Do you know what happened?"
"Officially, he passed after a short battle with a severe illness," Dilys
explained.
"Officially?" Albus pressed.
Dilys's jaw tightened as she nodded.
"That will be the release to the public, but he was killed by no
illness," she added firmly. "According to a conversation one of the
portraits overheard between two of the healers treating him, Barty
Crouch was poisoned. Both inspected his body and drew the same
conclusion."
"I suppose the Minister does not wish the truth to be known," Albus
murmured. "Did Cornelius attend St Mungo's?"
"His Undersecretary did so, the same woman he visited you with,"
Dilys explained. "She handed the healers a note with the Minister's
seal, and his cause of death of changed immediately."
Albus frowned unhappily.
If Barty was poisoned, then it was done intentionally, but by whom?
"I was told that he was unable to receive any visitors due to his
health."
"He was not supposed to," Dilys confirmed, "but according to another
portrait that sits above the ward, he did receive a visitor but they
could give no description of them. Barty Crouch was found dead less
than an hour later, his lips purple and eyes bloodshot."
Albus released a deep, laboured sigh.
"He was murdered then."
"I have no doubt that is what occurred," Dilys agreed.
"Thank you," Albus offered gratefully. "If you discover anything else,
do let me know."
The woman offered him a bow before vacating her portrait once
more and Albus rubbed his eyes tiredly.
"Is this the world we live in now?" Phineas Nigellus scoffed.
"Cowards poisoning people. In my day, we duelled to the death if we
wished to settle differences, and politicians were real men. They
weren't puppets for the scum of society."
It was not often that Albus agreed with the man, but in this instance,
he did.
The political field had always had its share of corruption and
unpleasantness, but it had only gotten worse over the past half
decade or so in Britain.
Cornelius was a terrible Minister, and several others had come
before him.
It was times like this that Albus wondered if he had made the right
decision when he had turned down the post.
He shook his head of that thought immediately.
No, being the Minister of Magic was never a position he coveted, but
something certainly had to change or the likes of Lucius Malfoy and
his ilk would continue to exploit the system for their own gain.
Worse still, they could exploit it for the gain of someone else.
Regardless, the death of Barty Crouch was only the beginning, and if
Albus was correct, which he unfortunately was most of the time, then
more would soon follow as Tom gathered his strength to resume
where he left off.
He needed to be ready, and for that he needed to gather some old
friends.
"Fawkes, are you ready to deliver some notes for me?"
The phoenix trilled his agreement, and Albus removed some fresh
parchment from the stack he kept on his desk and began scratching
away, lamenting on how few of the group remained.
He would need to recruit more.
After all, the Order of the Phoenix could not function with such a
paltry offering they currently had.
Harry offered a hand to the scowling girl, and Zabini shook her head
before accepting it.
"How do you beat me so easily?" she huffed as Harry pulled her to
her feet.
"Not easily," Harry returned. "You've gotten better."
"So have you," Zabini snorted. "I even had extra tuition over the
summer."
Harry chuckled.
It had taken less than two hours that he had set foot into Durmstrang
before the girl had sought him out to challenge him to a duel.
Strictly speaking, the room was not officially open until the following
day, but Zabini had evidently not wanted to wait.
As such, they had the space to themselves.
"You've improved so much," Harry comforted.
Zabini raised an eyebrow in his direction and tucked a few errant
strands of dark hair behind her ear.
"How do you do it?" she asked curiously. "How do you become so
good?"
Harry shrugged.
"Because I have to be," he answered simply.
Zabini nodded her understanding.
"Well, I feel for anyone who gets on the wrong side of you. We are
only duelling using competitive rules. I bet you could really hurt
someone."
"I could," Harry confirmed shamelessly. "I've learned things that
many wouldn't believe to be possible."
It was true.
Between his own studies, the Black and Potter magic, and
everything Dumbledore and Grindelwald had provided him with,
Harry wielded a deadly arsenal.
Not to mention all he had gathered from Voldemort.
That was merely the icing on the cake.
"Then I'm glad I do not have you as an enemy," Zabini replied with a
grin, the dimples on her cheeks becoming prominent.
With the way she was looking at him, Harry was reminded of what
Viktor had told him during their time at Hogwarts.
The girl had once harboured something of an admiration for him that
went beyond their shared passion for duelling and judging by the
way she gazed at him now, it was not something that had faded.
Harry could not deny that she was beautiful.
She had wavy dark locks, olive skin, and green eyes, though hers
were much darker than his own.
At seventeen years old, she had already filled out in all the right
places, something that could not be missed despite the robes she
wore.
"Well, I don't have any plans of becoming an enemy of yours," Harry
assured her amusedly. "I might win in here, but you wouldn't be
holding back either in other circumstances. I imagine you know a
thing or two."
Zabini's grin widened as she nodded and moved a step closer
towards him.
"I might," she answered demurely.
She stood close enough now that Harry caught the faint odour of her
faded perfume beneath her natural scent, and he felt his head swim.
It was intoxicating, and the way she looked up at him as though she
wished to devour him only made it more difficult to ignore.
All of that came to an end as the door crashed open and the two of
them were interrupt by Professor Olaffson.
"This room is off limits until tomorrow," the enormous Icelander said
sharply.
"We were just leaving," Harry grumbled, annoyed that the man had
chosen an inopportune moment to arrive.
Olaffson glared at them until they exited the room, the moment
between them all but ruined.
"Potter?"
"Yeah."
"You need to watch out for Barkus," Zabini warned. "I don't usually
involve myself in things that don't concern me, but he's determined
to get you."
"He's always been determined to get me," Harry sighed. "Barkus
doesn't worry me."
Zabini offered him a smile before turning away to head towards her
own lodgings and seeing no reason to be out later than he already
had, Harry followed suit, cursing Olaffson under his breath.
The man was evidently no longer simply content to make Harry's life
miserable with physical labour before the sun came up, he now had
to interfere in other matters to ensure maximum satisfaction for
himself.
"Bastard," Harry grumbled, though perhaps it was for the best that
Olaffson had arrived.
Harry did not know what would have happened in the heat of the
moment with Zabini, but he could not deny that he had been fully
immersed in it, with little thought for anything else.
Now that he was away from it and thinking clearly, he knew he
should be grateful they were interrupted, but there was a small part
of him that still wished they hadn't been