"The Medical Bay is off limits until further notice. Those needing
assistance are to report to Professor Sidorova," Lucinda read the
sign on the door, looking towards the rest of the group in confusion
when she'd finished.
"If it's off limits, then where is Harry?" Cain asked.
Lucinda immediately felt the weight of dread fill her stomach.
"I don't know," she whispered, "but I'm going to find out."
The others followed as she made her way towards Professor
Sidorova's office, knocking on the door as soon as she reached it.
It was a tired woman that had evidently gotten little sleep during the
night that answered it, her usually kept hair not having been styled.
Lucinda was undeterred by the professor's appearance.
"Where is Harry?" she demanded to know.
Professor Sidorova offered her a sympathetic smile.
"You had best come in," she urged, stepping aside to allow the group
entry and closing the door behind them. "There was an incident last
night and Mr Potter is not currently at Durmstrang."
"Is he okay?" Ana questioned.
"I have been assured that he is doing quite well under the
circumstances, and that he will be returning today."
Although she was relieved, Lucinda was not satisfied with the
explanation.
"What happened?" she pressed.
"I have not been made privy to all of the details," Sidorova answered.
"It will be up to Harry to tell you. I'm sorry, but what little I do know is
not something to be discussed with students at the moment.
Information will be released when it is necessary to do so. For now, I
would like you to attend your classes as normal. I am sure Mr Potter
will find you when he returns."
Lucinda frowned but accepted the dismissal for what it was.
They would get nothing else out of the professor.
Taking their leave of the office, the group remained silent for a
moment before Eleanor spoke.
"What do you think happened?"
"With it being Harry, it could be anything," Cain snorted
humourlessly. "I swear he can't keep out of trouble, even when he's
laid up in a hospital bed."
Lucinda nodded her agreement.
The boy truly attracted trouble like no other she had ever met.
Still, she could not shift the worry she felt for him.
He would not simply leave the school for no reason, and not in the
state that he was in when he had been taken to the Medical Bay.
No, something significant had to have happened for him to even
have been able to stand, let alone venture off elsewhere.
What that was, she could not even hazard a guess, but the
knowledge that he would be returning at some point in the day
certainly eased her mind somewhat.
She had no doubt that Harry would tell them what had happened, but
nothing they had heard would explain just why the Medical Bay was
off limits.
It was with a thoughtful frown that she took a seat with the others in
the Main Hall for breakfast where each of them barely touched their
food, each simply waiting for any word or appearance from their
wayward friend.
"Bloody hell," Harry muttered as Cassiopeia finished explaining what
had happened to Igor Karkaroff throughout the past months. "Will he
be okay?"
"I don't think so," Cassie sighed. "What he has endured is something
he won't ever get over physically or mentally. He'll live, if that's what
you mean, but no, he won't fully recover."
Harry swallowed deeply as he nodded his understanding.
There had been no indication that anything was amiss with the man.
Barty Crouch had impersonated him perfectly.
"I'm sorry, Harry," Cassie murmured sadly.
"For what?" Harry returned with a frown.
"For not keeping you safe. You shouldn't have gone through what
you did last night."
"Don't be stupid," Harry huffed irritably. "You've kept me safe my
entire life. You have nothing to apologise for. We've both always
known this was coming, and I'll be facing much worse things than I
did last night. I'm fine," he assured the woman, taking one of her
hands in his own. "There is nothing you will ever have to apologise
to me for."
Cassiopeia offered him a sad smile.
"Are you sure it is wise for you to return to school?"
Harry nodded.
"I can't let what happen change my course of action," he answered.
"I will be an adult soon. I have responsibilities that I have to live up
to, and a part of being an adult is doing that."
Cassiopeia shook her head.
"Where did all the years go?" she chuckled.
"We lived them," Harry replied simply. "You raised me, and you
taught me everything you could to make me what I am. You didn't do
such a bad job," he added with a grin.
Cassie snorted amusedly.
"You didn't always make it easy."
"You made it seem like it was," Harry said sincerely. "I couldn't have
asked for anything more from you. I'm sure my parents are
somewhere feeling very grateful for what you have done these past
fifteen years."
In a rare show of affection, Cassiopeia wrapped her arms around his
neck.
"I'm so very proud of you," she whispered. "I've made no secret that
your grandfather and I didn't agree on much, but you are going to be
a fine Lord for both the Potter and Black families."
Her words warmed him.
Harry had been raised with the knowledge that he would be
responsible for two prominent lines, and though the tasks ahead
were daunting, he had no intention of shying away from any.
"Do you think Arcturus would approve?"
Cassiopeia nodded thoughtfully.
"He would," she said confidently. "You have the best of both families
in you, Harry, and there was not another he respected more than
your grandfather. You are like him so much, but I see a lot of Dorea
in you too."
"Sirius says I'm a lot like both of my parents."
"From what little I know of James; he was very much his father's son.
I expect that is where you got your mischievous side from. I cannot
comment on your mother, but for Dorea to accept her, she must have
been an exceptional woman."
Harry smiled.
Speaking about his parents never failed to bring him joy.
"I suppose I should get ready," he sighed as he stood. "I can't hang
around here all day. I'll have some explaining to do when I get back."
Cassie gave his hand a final squeeze.
"Be careful, Harry," she pleaded.
"Aren't I always?" he replied with a smirk.
Cornelius could only gape at the furious, older man as he glared at
the Minister, waiting for an answer that wouldn't come.
"Well?" the man demanded.
He had not even introduced himself, but the grey cloak he wore told
Cornelius all he needed to of who had barged into his office.
"Why are there corpses littered across my department, Fudge?"
"W-what do you mean?" Cornelius sputtered.
The man growled irritably.
"The whole damned place looks as though a bomb has hit it!" he
snapped. "I have four bodies of escaped Azkaban inmates, and
damage that I cannot even begin to calculate the cost of. What the
hell is happening?"
Cornelius could only shake his head.
He had no idea what the man was talking about.
Seeing that no answer was forthcoming, the grey-cloaked man threw
a chair against the wall and left the office, slamming the door on his
way out.
Cornelius breathed a sigh of relief.
He'd never had any involvement with the Department of Mysteries,
and the sudden intrusion had caught him off guard.
What was he supposed to do?
"The man is a raving lunatic," Dolores commented.
Cornelius nodded his agreement.
"Look into it, if you would," he instructed.
"Is it really necessary to do so, Minister?" Dolores asked. "If it is
anything to do with the escaped prisoners, surely Black is
responsible, and we are no closer to apprehending him now than we
were three years ago."
"I suppose you are right," Cornelius sighed, wondering just how his
morning has started off so badly.
The Department of Mysteries was not his concern, after all.
The Unspeakables operated as a lone entity within the Ministry.
They had never offered their assistance when it had been needed,
so why should Cornelius?
Massaging his temples to stave off the impending headache, he
pushed thoughts of the department out of his mind.
He had his own things to focus on, and it was not as though anything
that happened in the bowels of the Ministry would become known
outside of it.
Igor woke, his breathing laboured as he took in his surroundings,
gripped by the same fear that had been plaguing him for months.
He had been tortured for information, tortured for fun, and humiliated
in ways that he had never thought imaginable.
Although his ordeal was over, he remembered every second of it.
He had wished he was dead and had long given up hoping that he
may survive.
Had he survived?
No.
Igor Karkaroff was a broken man in both mind and body, never to be
what he once was again.
He held up his heavily bandaged hands where only a finger and
thumb existed on each.
The pain of each digit being broken before his nails had been torn
out was something he could not describe.
He remembered that he had lost consciousness several times from
the pain, but Crouch had waited for him to wake before continuing
with the torture.
In truth, having the fingers removed had been a relief in comparison
the bloodied and mangled state they had been left in.
"I would ask how you are doing, but it would be a stupid question," a
voice broke into Igor's thoughts.
"It would," he croaked as Potter sat in the seat next to the bed. "I
was told that the Medical Bay is off limits."
"And when have I ever paid much attention to the rules?"
Igor chortled, coughing from the tightness of his chest where his
destroyed ribcage was healing.
"True," he conceded.
Neither said anything else for several moments and it was the boy
that finally broke the silence.
"I am sorry for what happened to you, Professor," he sighed. "We
both know what you once were, but you have always treated me with
indifference and even respect. I wouldn't have wished this on you."
"Nor me," Igor snorted. "I expected them to come, but not like that.
You do not simply walk away from his service, and there is no
forgiveness for what I did. I sacrificed others so that I could buy my
freedom and I paid a higher price for doing so."
"Will you be staying on?"
Igor shook his head.
"I do not think I could even if I wanted to," he murmured. "What
happened to me here will forever haunt me. Staying would only
make it worse."
Potter nodded his understanding.
"Where will you go?"
Igor shrugged.
"I expect they will come looking for me again," he acknowledged.
"Until then, I think I will go somewhere warmer. I've spent too many
years in the cold."
Potter chuckled amusedly before his expression became serious
once more.
"There is a house in South America that belongs to my family," he
revealed. "It is unknown to any other, and you will be safe there. I
would like to offer you the use of it for as long as you like."
Igor frowned curiously, his eyebrows raising as he realised the boy
was being serious.
"Why?"
"Because I think you have more than paid for anything you have
done," Potter answered as he stood. "Just think about it, Professor,
and let me know your decision when you have."
The boy walked towards the exit and Igor followed him with his gaze.
"I will," he murmured gratefully before sinking back into his pillows,
already questioning if the conversation he had shared with the boy
had been nothing but a fever dream.
The Dark Lord rubbed his tired eyes having exited his pensieve for
the umpteenth time. In lieu of sleep, he had been intently studying
the memory that Bellatrix had provided him to see just how the task
he had set for his Death Eaters had gone so wrong.
At the first viewing, he had found himself in a state of disbelief that
Potter not only managed to shake off the effects of the potion that
Barty had dosed him with but also the Imperius Curse that Lucius
had placed upon him.
The man was an expert with the curse.
To add to the shock, Voldemort had watched as the boy had
defended himself against his followers, the magic he had wielded as
impressive as it was effective.
Many of the spells Potter had used were ones that even the Dark
Lord was not familiar with, though somehow more concerning was
the style with which the boy fought.
There were undeniable similarities to his own, down to some of the
spells he'd used.
Voldemort shook his head.
No.
He had thought of Potter as a boy for too long. He was no longer
that.
Harry Potter fought as a man and wielded his wand better than most
the Dark Lord had seen.
The only thing he lacked was experience, and at the age of sixteen,
he would gain that if he was to be left unchecked.
Once more, Voldemort's mind drifted to the details of the prophecy
that he knew.
He needed to hear the rest of it.
After what he had witnessed in the pensieve many times now, it was
imperative that he obtain it.
The Dark Lord frowned as he pondered the other, seemingly minor
details of the memory.
Potter was an Animagus; a wolf that had torn the throat out of
Mulciber.
Not that the revelation was concerning, but it certainly spoke
volumes of his ability.
Becoming an Animagus was quite the feat in itself, but to achieve it
at such a young age was something else entirely.
It took discipline and talent in Transfiguration to do so.
Something Potter seemed to have in spades.
Taking a seat by the dying remains of the fire, the Dark Lord leaned
back in his chair.
Barty had spoken of how gifted Potter was and much to his chagrin,
Voldemort had ignored the man.
A mistake he would not repeat where Potter was concerned.
No, there was no denying that he needed to be taken seriously, and
that it was paramount he was eliminated sooner rather than later.
Firstly, however, hearing the prophecy in its entirety was vital.
It would be foolish to dismiss it after what the Dark Lord had seen,
and he was loath to risk his legacy by doing so.
There was indeed more to Potter than met the eye, and it was
impossible to ignore the niggle of concern that now plagued Lord
Voldemort having witnessed first-hand the potential his foe
possessed.
Nodding to himself, he sent for Lucius.
Obtaining the prophecy would be difficult now, but it was an absolute
priority before even considering proceeding further with his plans
beyond what had already been put into motion.
It had been all but impossible to focus on her lessons not knowing
what had happened to Harry. Although Professor Sidorova had
ensured them that he was well, Lucinda would not be satisfied until
she saw him for herself.
"I don't think he will be back yet," Cain huffed as she led them back
towards the Common Room instead of towards the Main Hall for
lunch.
Lucinda did not respond, and the rest offered no further protest.
They were equally as worried as she was.
"He is back!" Cain declared as they neared their destination. "He's
walked here recently. I can smell him."
Lucinda needed no further prompting and her paced quickened in
her eagerness to see him.
Pushing open the door to the Common Room, she realised that he
wasn't there which meant he could only be in one other place.
Not caring that she shouldn't be entering the boy's dormitory, she did
so and was flooded with relief at the sight of the sleeping Harry
tucked up in his bed.
"Maybe we should leave him to rest," Eleanor suggested once the
others had caught up. "He must be exhausted after last night."
"I don't think so," Cain muttered as he closed the distance between
himself and the other boy. "He doesn't make us worry about him all
day and get off so lightly. Get up, Potter!"
The entire group froze as Harry's wand was immediately pointed at
them after Cain kicked the side of the bed. Worse than this, however,
was the expression he wore.
Lucinda knew that Harry had a temper, but she had never seen him
truly angry before; not like this.
For the briefest of moments whilst he was figuring out where he was,
his face was a mask of unbridled fury, and the tip of his wand
crackled with bolts of lightning that struck the stone floor.
"Harry, it's us," Cain assured him.
Harry's gaze drifted over them before he lowered his wand.
"Bloody hell, don't do that again," he huffed irritably.
"I wasn't planning to," Cain snorted, breathing a sigh of relief. "Are
you going to tell us what happened? We came to see you this
morning and Sidorova said you weren't here."
"I wasn't," Harry confirmed with a shake of his head. "I was
kidnapped in my sleep."
It sounded so surreal, and Lucinda along with the others were
waiting for punchline that never came.
"Kidnapped?" Ana gasped worriedly.
Harry shrugged as though it was little more than a regularly
occurring inconvenience.
"Kidnapped to where?" Jonas pressed.
A ghost of a smirk tugged at Harry's lips before he responded.
"The Department of Mysteries."
"Where the prophecies are kept," Eleanor whispered as she sat on
the edge of the bed.
Harry nodded.
"Who were you kidnapped by?" the blonde pressed. "Was it him ?"
"Not him personally, but it was done on his orders," Harry explained.
"Shit," Cain cursed. "What happened?"
Harry released a deep breath.
"I was drugged by one of the Death Eaters he had placed here."
"Here?" Lucinda scoffed.
"He's been impersonating Karkaroff all year," Harry informed them.
"He drugged me, duelled me, and sent me there when I was
weakened."
Lucinda was as shocked as the others.
"How did you get out of it?" Jonas whispered in disbelief.
"I don't know," Harry muttered. "One minute, I had no idea what was
going on, and then I suddenly did. They instructed me to take the
prophecy, so I did and then may have blown up quite a big part of
the room."
"Of course you did," Lucinda grumbled.
Harry offered her a grin that, despite the severity of the situation,
elicited one in return.
"That's it?" Cain questioned.
"I wish," Harry mumbled. "No, they chased me across the whole
department and trapped me in another room. Thankfully, I managed
to defend myself until help arrived. A fight broke out, and they ended
up running."
"Why have I got the feeling you are glossing over some things?"
Eleanor asked.
"Because it doesn't matter what else happened," Harry returned
evenly. "I made it out of there alive…"
"But others didn't," Lucinda cut in. "Did you…?"
She broke off not knowing how to finish the question.
Harry simply nodded in response.
"A few," he confirmed, "but it isn't the first time."
"What do you mean?" Ana probed.
Harry deflated.
"The World Cup Final," he answered. "When the Death Eaters
attacked after, I killed two of them."
No one said anything for several moments whilst the processed what
they had learned.
"And then more last night," Lucinda murmured. "Are you okay?"
"I'm fine," Harry said dismissively. "If I didn't get them, it would have
been me."
Again, he was not being entirely forthcoming with them, but the
others did not press him further on the matter.
"What about the prophecy?" Cain whispered. "Did you hear it?"
Harry said nothing but removed a glass orb from within his robes an
eyed it before tapping it with his wand.
The eerie voice that filled the room was almost as unsettling as the
words being spoken.
" The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches...
born to those who have
thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies... and the Dark
Lord will mark him as his equal, but he will have power the Dark Lord
knows not... and either must die at the hand of the other for neither
can live while the other survives... the one with the power to
vanquish the Dark Lord will be born as the seventh month dies... "
"I don't understand," Lucinda mused aloud. "How do you know it
means you?"
"Marked as his equal," Harry replied, pointing to the lightning bolt
scar on his forehead.
"The power he knows not?"
"That I am not certain of," Harry answered with a frown.
Lucinda knew him well enough to know that he had his own thoughts
on it at the very least, even if he did not wish to share them right
now.
"Either must die at the hand of the other," Ana recited worriedly.
"Is it hard to believe that I think I already knew that before I heard it?"
Harry snorted. "I've always known it would come down to me and
him, in the end."
"And you are okay with that?"
"It is everything I could want," Harry answered coldly, his grip visibly
tightening around his wand.
Before any could press him further, the door to dormitory opened,
and Professor Sidorova entered the room, looking at the gathered
teens disapprovingly.
"You lot should be in class," she pointed out. "Off you go."
Lucinda was going to refuse to comply until she felt Harry take her
hand as the others left took their leave of the dormitory.
"We can talk more later," he promised. "Just the two of us, if you like.
I have some things to do myself now, anyway."
Lucinda nodded and stood reluctantly.
Harry appeared to be fine, but she was not convinced he was doing
as well as he had told them.
The last thing she wished to do was leave him, but with a final nod of
encouragement from the boy, she did so, pausing as he called her
name once more.
"I will meet you in the Common Room tonight when the others are in
bed."
The sad smile he offered her spoke volumes of whatever warring
thoughts and emotions he was experiencing, but now was not the
moment to press him on them.
He had not said as much, but he wished to be alone for a while
whilst he pondered the last twenty-four hours.
Lucinda couldn't blame him, not when she too felt the need to think
about everything she had learned throughout the course of the
previous moments.
She could only imagine what was going through Harry's mind, and
though she wished to remain with him, he needed his space.
Lucinda would not deprive him of that.
"You have my apologies for the delay in answering your summons,
Cornelius," Lucius offered as he entered the office.
Cornelius waved off the apology dismissively.
"Think nothing of it," he replied. "I was hoping I could pick your brain
about something that was raised with me this morning."
"I am at your disposal," Lucius returned with a bow.
"According to a Head of Department that cannot be named, a few of
the escaped Death Eaters were found in the Ministry this morning."
Lucius frowned deeply.
"I would know nothing of such a thing, Minister."
"No, of course not, but although I do not expect the information to
leak, I was hoping you would have a suggestion as to how we can
ensure the public that we are continuing to strive to keep them safe."
"I am not sure much more can be done, Cornelius," Lucius sighed.
"We are already registering them and prioritising auror patrols in the
more magically populated areas of the country."
"I thought as much," Cornelius murmured. "How is that
progressing?" he asked Dolores.
"Not as well as I had hoped," the woman huffed irritably. "It seems
that there are those that do not wish to comply with us, even though
it has been made perfectly clear that the registration is mandatory. It
appears that there are those who either have something to hide, or
who are simply defying us."
"That will not do," Cornelius muttered. "The point of the register is so
that we know where our people are dotted around the country. If they
are not registered, then we are blind. Do we have an account of how
many have failed to appear thus far?"
Dolores nodded as she removed a thick wad of parchment from
within her bag.
"According to the records of those that have graduated Hogwarts in
the past 150 years, we have yet to register around 60% of the known
population," she explained. "That does not include those who are
older, still at school, or who never attended. Those could quite easily
number in the hundreds or even thousands."
"That simply will not do," Cornelius grumbled. "Is there nothing else
we can implement to increase those numbers?"
"We have tried fining people, Minister," Dolores informed him, "but it
seems to have had little impact on those arriving to register. The only
other option we have would be to send the aurors to arrest them and
bring them in to register."
Cornelius shook his head.
"No, we do not have the aurors to spare to do so," he pointed out.
"They are needed elsewhere."
"Then perhaps you should consider creating another team of people
to do so," Lucius suggested. "A team of volunteers. As an incentive,
they could be paid for each unregistered person they bring in. I
expect it would be quite the success."
Cornelius frowned thoughtfully.
The idea certainly had merit.
"Where would we find these volunteers?" he asked curiously.
"I'm sure if Madam Umbridge was to advertise the need for such
people, they would come," Lucius mused aloud. "I would be willing to
bet that there would be many willing to do the work."
Cornelius hummed as he twirled his bowler hat between his hands.
"I will agree to it under a trial basis," he decided. "Dolores, I will allow
you to run the programme for six months, and then the effectiveness
of it shall be reviewed."
"I will not let you down, Minister," the woman assured him. "I shall
begin the recruitment process immediately."
With that, she took her leave of the office and Cornelius poured
himself and Lucius a generous measure of whiskey.
"What a day," the Minister sighed. "It is barely past lunchtime and it
has been non-stop."
"As is the burden of leading a country," Lucius returned.
Cornelius could only nod as he took a sip of his drink.
It was not easy being the Minister, and he was eternally grateful that
he had such loyal people around him to offer guidance when he
found himself lacking.
Lucius and Dolores truly were invaluable and Cornelius knew that he
would be quite lost without them.
Bellatrix had been oddly quiet since the previous evening, and
though Narcissa was never made privy to what the Dark Lord and
his followers were doing, it was abundantly clear that whatever they
had attempted last night had not gone to plan.
Those within her home were all rather subdued, whispering amongst
themselves for the most part.
All that Narcissa could be certain of was that some of them had lost
their lives and the Dark Lord was furious with them.
That, however, was not what was irking her older sister.
Bellatrix never had possessed the ability to care for others outside of
the family, her master being the exception, of course.
No, her mind was occupied by something bothersome, and she
sported the very same expression she had since she had been a
child when she was faced with such.
"What is it, Bella?" Narcissa finally plucked up the courage to ask.
Bellatrix continued to scowl for several moments before answering.
"I saw her," she whispered dangerously. "Aunt Cassie."
Narcissa swallowed nervously.
Did Bella know she had met with their Aunt?
"She really is on Potter's side."
"I did tell you."
"How could she do this to us?" Bella hissed. "We are family!"
In her twisted mind, Bellatrix could not comprehend that it was her
that had gone against the wishes of the family when she had
become a Death Eater.
Their grandfather had not specifically forbidden them from doing so,
but he had made it clear that the Blacks as a whole would not
support nor fund the pureblood movement.
Perhaps if the man had been more insistent on at least remaining
neutral, things would have been different.
"I can think of no reason why she would choose him," Bella
muttered, pulling Narcissa from her thoughts.
"Because he is family," the blonde pointed out. "He is Aunt Dorea's
grandson."
Bellatrix's scowl deepened.
"He is a filthy half-blood!" she fired back. "There is no Black left in
him."
Narcissa could not disagree more.
From what little she knew of the boy; he was perhaps the one
relative alive that was most like the Blacks of old.
Neither Sirius nor Regulus had resembled them much, and though it
pained her to admit it, even Draco was a Malfoy through and
through.
Potter's threat still concerned her, and after her conversation with
Cassie, Narcissa was not willing to take the chance that he would
not follow through and kill her or Draco simply to get to Lucius.
"Maybe," she agreed quietly, "but from what I have heard of him, he
is dangerous."
"Potter is nothing!" Bellatrix denied. "It does not matter what tricks
Aunt Cassie may have taught him; it will never be enough!"
Acting as though she was little more than a petulant child, Bellatrix
stalked from the room and slammed the door behind her.
She had always been sensitive when it came to the Dark Lord, and
quite fanatical by the time she had been locked away in Azkaban.
Something that seemed to have only increased during her
incarceration.
Her devotion would be her eventual downfall, and Narcissa could not
help but think the world would be much safer with Bellatrix either
back behind bars or dead.
If Potter got his way in the coming months or years, that could be the
fate of them all that had chosen to side with Lord Voldemort.
There had never been a time that Lucinda could think of that she had
been nervous at the thought of spending time alone with Harry.
Perhaps it was that they had not done so in so long was why she felt
it now.
It wasn't as though they had purposely avoided doing so this past
year, or had they?
She frowned at the thought.
No, she didn't think they had.
Still, they had scarcely spent more than a few moments with just the
two of them being present for more weeks and months than she
cared to count.
As much as she didn't believe it was intentional, she had missed
their time together and though she was anticipating it more eagerly
than she would ever tell him, she could not shake the nervousness.
She stood from her seat as the door to the Common Room opened
and Harry entered.
He had been absent for the rest of the day, even missing dinner,
leaving the rest of the group to question just what he was doing.
"Are you ready?" he asked.
"Ready for what?"
"There's something I want to show you," Harry answered cryptically.
Lucinda narrowed her eyes at the boy suspiciously.
"If this is one of your tricks, Potter…"
He cut her off with a chuckle as he held up a hand.
"No tricks, I promise."
Lucinda hummed sceptically.
"Come on," Harry sighed, removing a large, silvery cloak from within
his robes. "It's probably best if we go under here to avoid being
seen."
"Under there? What is it?"
"A family heirloom," Harry replied fondly. "It's an invisibility cloak. It
should cover us both."
Lucinda watched as Harry vanished into the fabric, leaving no trace
of himself within the room, not even his scent.
It must be quite some cloak to be able to hide that much of him.
"Are you coming?" he asked.
"I can't even see where you are," Lucinda huffed as she stepped
forward, her breath hitching in her chest as she felt the cloak wrap
around her.
The two of them were barely an inch apart and she felt her skin
suddenly grow warm from the close proximity.
"It will be easier if you turn around," Harry chuckled.
Lucinda could only nod in response, doing as she was bid before
Harry began guiding them out of the Common Room and through the
school.
She was very much aware of his breath on the back of her neck and
his body pressed against hers.
It sent an involuntary shiver down her spine, though it was not an
unpleasant one of dread or discomfort.
It was quite the opposite.
"Where are you taking me?" she managed to whisper as they
stepped out into the courtyard.
"You'll see."
Lucinda huffed but did not say another word as Harry steered her
through the terrain past the Quidditch pitch and through what
appeared to be a maze of rocks until the school they had left was far
behind them.
"Here we are," he declared as they reached a steaming pool of water
that was hidden from view.
The only way someone would ever know it was here was if they
walked to the very edge.
The steam pouring off the surface was concealed by the thick fog
that permeated the area.
"What is it?" Lucinda asked.
"It's a hot spring," Harry answered.
"And how many other girls have you dragged out here?" Lucinda
questioned.
Harry frowned, and Lucinda felt a twinge of guilt for asking such a
petty question.
"None. I've never brought anyone else here."
"It's not my business," Lucinda murmured apologetically. "What are
we doing here?"
Harry shrugged.
"I like to come here sometimes," he replied. "It's just somewhere I
can think about things and forget about others if I need to."
It was odd to hear Harry speak so candidly.
For the most part, he would palm off any conversation that was
taking a serious turn with an anecdote or a joke of sorts, but as
Lucinda held his gaze, she saw something in him she never had
before.
Harry looked much older than the decade and a half he had lived.
Not in his features, but the dullness of his eyes spoke volumes of
just what it was he carried, and in that moment, she realised
something.
He hadn't brought her here to show her the hot spring. He brought
her here so that she could see him; unguarded and even a little
vulnerable.
This was his place where he could simply be himself, where he could
forget his burdens or allow them to overwhelm him, even for a short
while before he shouldered them once more.
"Are you coming in?" he asked.
Lucinda quirked a brow in his direction.
"I'm hardly dressed for the occasion," she pointed out, gesturing to
her robes.
"Are you not able to transfigure them?" Harry teased.
The grin he sent her way provoked the exact reaction he had
intended to and Lucinda narrowed her eyes as she drew her wand.
"Do you plan on watching me change?"
"No, I'm sure you can just about manage that."
He turned away from her and began removing his own robes and
Lucinda had to avert her own gaze so that she could focus on her
own task.
By the time she had transfigured her robes into a black bikini, Harry
was already seated in the pool up to his neck, still with his back to
her.
"You can look now," Lucinda snorted.
He did so, and she did not miss how his eyes swept over her,
making her feel as exposed as it did desirable.
She had never worn so little in front of anyone, and though she tried
her best to step into the pool gracefully, her legs trembled from the
tension between them.
"So, you just sit in here?" Lucinda asked, the heat from the water
making it rather pleasant to be in the outdoors this far north in the
world.
"That's about it," Harry answered. "Sometimes it's nice to just sit
here and not have to think about or do anything else."
"This is your escape then?"
Harry nodded.
"Something like that."
They fell into a comfortable silence for several moments, the sound
of the bubbling water being the only thing heard.
Lucinda simply watched Harry. His eyes were closed as he leaned
against the edge of the pool, but his posture was as relaxed as she
had ever seen it.
"What are you thinking about?" she asked curiously.
"All the things that have happened already, and the things that are
coming," Harry replied quietly.
"Like what," Lucinda probed.
Harry opened his eyes and met her gaze.
There was an intensity within them, a myriad of emotions that
passed from one to the next before she could discern them.
Harry was watching her closely, and Lucinda could almost feel him
look into her very soul.
"Things that have already happened," he murmured. "There's so
many of them, things I haven't told anyone."
"Not even me?" Lucinda asked with a pout.
Harry chuckled as he shook his head, though it lacked any humour.
"Not even you, Princess."
"Then why don't you?"
"I wouldn't even know where to begin."
Lucinda frowned lightly as she watched his emotions shift once more
and settle onto something akin to relief.
"I died," he suddenly declared. "When I went to Hogwarts. I did
something monumentally stupid and died. I was brought back to life
by a phoenix and a thunderbird."
For a moment, Lucinda thought that he was merely teasing her, but
as he looked in her direction once more, there was no denying the
truth in his eyes.
"What, how?" she choked when she realised there was no jesting
remark forthcoming.
Harry stood, and Lucinda gasped as his torso was exposed to the
elements.
His body was littered with scars that all undoubtedly had their own
story, but the most prominent of them was a puckered, purple mark
in the centre of his chest with a lightning bolt standing proudly in the
middle of it.
"It bit me," Harry explained, pointing to the marred flesh. "It's fang
went straight into my heart, and it killed me."
That's what Lucinda had felt when Harry had returned from
Hogwarts.
She had not been able to miss the difference in his magic, nor in
how his presence registered with her.
"You died?" she choked as she too stood and stepped forward.
Harry nodded and did not stop her as she ran her fingers over the
scar.
If she could not see or feel the depth of the wound for herself,
Lucinda would find such a thing impossible to believe, but the
irrefutable proof was right in front of her.
"The phoenix tears healed you."
"It healed the damage," Harry explained. "It was the thunderbird that
brought me back. It turns out that I underwent a ritual of sorts. I can't
say that I understand it. Even the healer could not tell me what the
effects will be. I heal unusually quickly now, and my affinity for
lightning is stronger than it was. My entire body was cleansed and
repaired."
"That is amazing," Lucinda whispered, though she could not shake
the thought of him having died in the process. "Where did you come
across a basilisk?"
"In the Chamber of Secrets," Harry snorted humourlessly. "It
belonged to Salazar Slytherin."
Lucinda's hand paused on Harry's chest.
"That would make it over a thousand years old," she gasped.
Harry nodded.
"It was," he confirmed. "I killed it but it got me too."
Lucinda swallowed deeply as she looked up at him.
There was acceptance in his eyes, something that she had to face.
Despite everything Harry was and all he had done, he was but a
human, as flawed as any other in mind and body.
Not that any would ever be able to see it.
He hid his demons well, but here, she could see them all haunting
his gaze.
She wanted nothing more than to hide him from the world, to protect
him from each of them.
The vampire deflated as she realised she could not do that.
Harry was a protector. It was in his nature to take a stand for those
that could not, even if it would eventually cost him his life.
"Why did you bring me here?" Lucinda whispered.
"I wanted to share this with you."
"You wanted to share this part of you with me," she corrected.
Harry offered her a sad smile as he nodded.
"I think maybe I just needed to talk about it," he sighed. "It's just one
less thing that will burden me as I move forward I suppose."
Lucinda frowned at his words.
It wasn't what he had said that stilled her once more, but what he
had omitted.
"You're not coming back to Durmstrang, are you?"
Harry shook his head.
"No," he confirmed. "If I sit the war out for another year, it will be too
late. It could already be. I have to go home and fix it. There's no one
else that can."
Despite her best efforts, Lucinda had to choke back a sob, but she
could not prevent the tears spilling down her cheeks.
Harry immediately wrapped his arms around her tightly, holding her
to his chest.
For several moments, she simply listened to the rhythmic beating of
his heart as she tried to come to terms with what was happening.
Harry was leaving to fight a war all but alone, and Lucinda could not
comprehend the mixture of emotions she felt.
"Please don't go," she whispered.
For all the vulnerability Harry had shown her, she found herself doing
the very same. In the face of him leaving, there was no use in being
aloof or masking her desire with flirting and playful fighting.
This was very real, as real as anything she had ever felt.
Instead of responding with words he could not likely find, Harry's grip
around her tightened.
Lucinda allowed him to hold her for some time before she gently
pried herself away and cupped his cheek.
As she looked into his eyes, she realised that he did not need to say
another word.
Full of sorrow, he did not shy away from looking at her, and though
she was devastated, she still could not ignore her want of him that
somehow now felt more of a burning need.
Without thought, she pulled him towards her and rested her lips upon
his, melting into him as he responded in just the way she had wished
and envisioned a thousand times before.
It was not lustful or hurried as she had perhaps imagined any
entanglement between them would be. It was gentle, tentative, but
even more passionate than she could have ever hoped for.
Lucinda did not know how long they remained this way, but when
they broke apart she was still cupping his cheek.
"Just don't say anything, Harry," she whispered as he opened his
mouth to speak.
He didn't, and Lucinda seized the opportunity to steal his lips once
more, grazing her fangs against them as she simply enjoyed the
moment they were sharing