She had no more tears to shed.
In the week or so that had passed since they had come upon
Gellert's still-warm corpse, it seemed that all Cassie had done was
cry mournfully for the man she had simply adored for over five
decades.
Everything since had been but a blur, and it was though she finally
felt a semblance of peace and clarity as she watched Gellert's coffin
being lowered into the ground at Godric's Hollow.
Harry had been her rock.
He had made all the necessary arrangements, had stayed awake
with her through the sleepless nights as they spoke of their fondest
memories of the man, and had even held her tightly in her moments
of weakness.
A death had never hit her so hard, and were it not for Harry,
Cassiopeia did not know how she would have coped.
She swallowed a lump that formed in her throat at one of the
conversations the two had shared.
' You don't have to do this. You have more important things to focus
on.'
' There is nothing more important in my life than you,' Harry had
replied simply. 'You used to comfort me when I had my bad dreams,
now it's my turn to be here for you.'
' You remember that?'
' It's the first time I remember ever feeling wanted.'
Cassie's gaze shifted towards the stoic young man she had raised
since he had been a babe.
He had grown to be strong, and she could feel no more pride in him
than she already did.
Harry had certainly not hung around before striking back at
Voldemort for what he had done.
Only the day after Gellert had been murdered, the bodies of Tonks
and John Dawlish had been dumped in the middle of Diagon Alley, a
warning from the Dark Lord to the magical population of Britain.
Both had suffered much in the final moments of their lives, and the
rest of the Auror department had taken what had happened to their
colleagues as a personal affront.
More and more of Voldemort's followers were being rounded up by
the day, and Amelia Bones had stepped out from behind her desk to
lead her forces.
Harry had taken more severe measures, though his actions had not
been officially recognised.
Lord Crabbe's ancestral home had been torched to the ground and
the man found hanging in Knockturn Alley. He had suffered similarly
to both Tonks and Dawlish and the only unmarred flesh that could be
seen was on his left forearm where his Dark Mark had been exposed
for all to see.
The next morning, both Jugson and Mulciber had been found in the
same state, but nothing else since from either side.
Not that Cassiopeia did not know Harry well enough to know that he
had something planned.
He had remained tight-lipped about it, but he was undoubtedly
mulling something over.
Even now, she could see his brain working as the muggle clergyman
nodded for the soil to be placed over the coffin.
The burial was being carried out under the cover of darkness with
only Harry, Cassie, and Dumbledore in attendance.
Gellert would be resting beneath an elder tree only a few plots over
from James and Lily Potter.
It was a testament to how much Harry thought of the man that he
would have them so close together.
"May he rest in peace in the embrace of our lord," the clergyman
murmured before he wandered back towards the church.
Cassie stayed where she was with Dumbledore and Harry, none
speaking as they simply stared at Gellert's monument.
She couldn't be certain how much time had gone by when she felt
Harry's arm wrap around her shoulder, but she was pulled from her
thoughts.
It had grown chillier, and Cassie shuddered, smiling gratefully as a
warming charm was cast over her.
"Come on, you'll catch your death if you stay here," he urged as he
led her away. "He wouldn't want you wasting away here."
He wouldn't.
Gellert would be quite irritated by the thought of any mourning over
his grave. He would sooner see those around him live, and though
doing so without him was not a prospect Cassie had ever
considered, it was her reality now.
"You're a good boy, Harry," she sighed. "Thank you, for everything."
"You have nothing to thank me for," he said dismissively. "We are
family."
Cassiopeia nodded.
Harry was her family.
She had not met another Black that had not disappointed her
throughout her life, even Arcturus, who, despite doing his best for
what terrible offspring he had produced, had sat back and watched
the Blacks implode from within.
Turning to look at Harry, Cassie placed a kiss on his cheek.
"Don't you have things you need to be getting on with?" she asked
pointedly. "What happened to Gellert should be more than enough of
a reminder that there is no promise of tomorrow. Seize a little
happiness for yourself, Harry."
He shook his head.
"It's not the right time."
"When will be the right time?" Cassie returned.
Harry shrugged and she huffed irritably.
"Harry," she pressed.
He offered her a weak smile.
"Are you sure?"
Cassie returned the gesture as she nodded.
"I have never been more certain of anything else. Go on. I'm sure
Dumbledore won't mind ensuring I get home safely."
"It will be my pleasure," the man replied.
Cassie snorted amusedly.
She expected there was little less than Albus Dumbledore ever
wanted than to spend time in her company.
The only thing they'd ever had in common was Gellert, and he was
no longer here.
"Fine," Harry agreed with a chuckle. "Wish me luck. I might well need
it."
"You will be fine," Cassie assured him. "Off you go, you've waited
long enough."
Harry offered her a grateful smile before apparating away from
Godric's Hollow, and Cassie and Dumbledore followed only a
moment later, both looking back towards the elder tree in the
distance.
It truly was a fitting place for Gellert, after all.
The time he'd spent with Cassiopeia Black had been oddly cordial.
The two of them had even shared a drink together in Gellert's
memory, though neither spoke of the years gone by.
The woman very much blamed Albus for Gellert's downfall, and
Albus could not forget the part she had played during his rise on the
continent.
No, they would never be friends, but they had managed to remain in
the company of one another without trading barbs.
Still, Albus had not stopped long at Grimmauld Place.
He had escorted Cassiopeia home, shared a drink, and had
departed back to Hogwarts and the office he had spent much of the
past week in as he mourned.
In truth, he had very much neglected his duties through grief, but
now, it was time to get back to them.
Minerva, as ever, had taken the reins despite being given no
explanation to Albus's demeanour.
She deserved better, and at the very least, warning of what was on
the horizon.
Gellert's death had left Albus with one regret. Other than not being
there to intervene during Tom's cowardly excursion to Nurmengard,
he had not been given the opportunity to say his goodbyes.
His own fate was indeed sealed, but he and Gellert had yet to
discuss the finer details.
Albus felt terrible, and he would not leave Minerva feeling the same
way when his time came in only a matter of weeks or months.
The latter, if fate was to be kind enough.
Having summoned his deputy, he waited for her arrival, pouring
himself and the Scot a measure of Firewhiskey.
She would need it, after all.
"Come in," Albus called only a moment later when a familiar knock
sounded at his door.
Minerva entered, raising an eyebrow at the sight of him cupping a
goblet of liquor.
He had never truly been one to drink away his sorrows as he already
had this evening. The one he clutched now was for the needed
courage for the conversation ahead.
"I expect this shall not only be an exchange of pleasantries," Minerva
sighed as she took the seat on the opposite of the desk.
Albus chuckled humourlessly.
"No, I expect this shall be rather unpleasant for us both."
"That sounds rather ominous, Albus."
"As is life," Albus replied, pouring himself another drink and
grimacing at the burn in his throat.
He did not understand how Minerva enjoyed the brew.
"Well, what is it you wish to discuss?"
"The future," Albus answered.
"The future?"
The headmaster nodded gravely.
"Things will change, Minerva, sooner than you can imagine. I wish to
discuss my final requests with you."
Minerva tutted.
"Is this some sort of crisis you are experiencing, Albus? You are as
healthy now as you were when we first met."
Albus chuckled again, this time in amusement.
"I am old, Minerva," he pointed out, "and far from the picture of
health. There is no easy way to tell you this, but I expect you will be
taking over my duties before the end of the school year. I will do my
best to see it out, of course, but that may not be within my power."
Minerva was taken aback by the statement, and she took a sip of her
own drink before replying.
"What is it you are saying, Albus?" she asked.
"That my time is short," Albus sighed as he removed the white glove
that hid the damage of the curse.
Minerva gasped, her eyes widening as she looked upon his
blackened appendage.
"What have you done?" she whispered.
"It was a fool's errand," Albus sighed. "This is quite irreversible."
Minerva nodded dumbly as she continue to stare at his hand.
"How long?"
"A few months."
Minerva swallowed deeply.
"How long have you known?"
Albus released a sigh.
"Longer than you would be pleased with."
Minerva nodded and turned her attention back to her goblet, draining
the contents and gesturing for a refill.
"You are a stupid man," she murmured. "I knew that you would one
day see me replace you, but not so soon. What are we going to do? I
do not wish to give up teaching yet, and we will need to appoint a
replacement for me in both jobs."
"I would suggest Filius for the role as deputy," Albus replied. "As for
your teaching, there is no reason that you should give it up entirely.
You can hire someone to take on some of the workload."
"Who?" Minerva questioned irritably.
"That is your decision, Minerva," Albus replied, offering the woman a
sorrowful smile.
She was not appeased by it, and the headmaster expected that once
the shock of the news had set in, she would be quite furious with
him.
"I do not know what to say," Minerva said sadly after she had drained
her goblet once more. "I do not believe I am ready."
"Nor did I," Albus chuckled. "Even now, I find being the Headmaster
here quite daunting."
"I did not mean that," the woman huffed. "I meant for you to not be
here anymore."
"Ah, I see," Albus murmured. "Well, it is out of my hands, Minerva. I
am sorry I did not tell you sooner, but death happens to the best of
us. My affairs are in order, and I have accepted my fate. Severus has
assured me he will make my passing as painless and as simple as
falling asleep. It is the best any man can hope for."
Minerva nodded her agreement, though her expression remained
one of devastation.
"You really are an old fool," she muttered. "What on earth were you
doing interfering with such magic?"
"My part in ending this war," Albus answered solemnly. "It will be
young Harry who strikes the final blow, and I have every faith in his
success."
"Was it worth it?" Minerva pressed.
Albus nodded without hesitation.
"I regret being cursed, Minerva, but yes, it has been and will be
worth every moment of discomfort I experience. I have no intention
to live forever. Perhaps a few years of retirement would have been
nice, but I suppose it is fitting that I pass here. I have called
Hogwarts my home for more years than I care to count. I have made
my peace with what is coming."
Minerva merely nodded in response as she slumped in her chair.
It was better that she was prepared.
Albus did not expect her to like it, but at the very least, she had time
to accept his impending passing.
She would mourn for him as he did for Gellert, but she would have
the opportunity to say her goodbyes, and for that, she would
eventually be grateful.
The Dark Lord shuddered as an other wave of cold washed over
him. The house had been this way since shortly after he had killed
Grindelwald, and no matter what he did, he could not prevent it.
It was almost as though he was being haunted by a particularly
vengeful spirit; one that did not have the means to truly harm him,
but one that could make its presence known at will.
The voices did not help banish the notion.
He would hear them sporadically, and though they spoke no words
of clarity, their whispers reverberated around the house, chilling him
more than the cold itself.
It was frustrating, and yet, there seemed to be no cause for them
either.
Voldemort had searched every inch of the house and grounds for an
answer, and yet, there was nothing.
Still, the cold swept in and the voices continued to mock him.
His excursion to Nurmengard had not been as fruitful as he'd hoped.
The scene of Pettigrew's remains strewn around his cell painted a
horrifying story.
It appeared as though the squat man had been torn apart by wild
animals, attested to further by the expression of sheer agony he had
died etched onto his face.
Of course, the head had been ripped away from the neck and
shoulders savagely, though not before each of his limbs, back, and
torso had been clawed and bitten beyond recognition.
In truth, what did remain is what the Dark Lord imagined a butcher's
workstation would resemble at the end of a busy day.
Wormtail had not died well.
Voldemort growled as the coldness made itself known once more.
Had killing Grindelwald caused this?
By all accounts, the man had been a powerful wizard in his day, and
the more he pondered it, the more the Dark Lord considered the
possibility that such a curse could be created.
Regardless, magic was still magic, and he was determined to find a
way to bring the inconvenient torment to an end.
"Why is it so cold in here?" Bellatrix asked curiously as she entered
the room, her gaze shifting towards the roaring fire Voldemort was
seated beside.
It made no difference. The cold prevailed over any heat it provided.
"A minor irritation," the Dark Lord replied dismissively. "You have
news?"
Bellatrix nodded, and Voldemort braced himself for yet another
unwelcome revelation.
The past week had seen Crabbe being slaughtered and his home
burned to the ground, Jugson and Mulciber had been killed by
Potter, and dozens more of his followers had been captured by the
aurors.
The reprisals for what he had done to Dawlish and Tonks had been
harsher than he could have anticipated.
"Rabastan is missing."
"Missing?"
Bellatrix nodded.
"He went to Knockturn Alley and hasn't returned. Crouch has gone
looking for him under Polyjuice Potion."
"How long has he been gone?"
"Five hours, but he said he would be no longer than a few."
The Dark Lord stood and paced back and forth in front of the fire, his
nostrils flaring as he heard a giggle sound from the corner of the
room.
"Fool," he muttered irritably. "He was told to remain within the
grounds. Find him, Bella. We cannot afford to keep losing members
of the inner circle. What was he thinking?"
"He thought that as it was nearing sunrise that he would be safe, my
lord."
Voldemort shook his head.
"I do not believe any of you are safe. Potter and the Ministry are
determined to thin our numbers."
Bellatrix cackled amusedly.
"We outnumber them several times over," she pointed out.
"Not for long if none of you can do as you are told," Voldemort bit
back.
Bellatrix frowned.
"Are you okay, my lord?"
"I'm fine," Voldemort returned evenly.
He had told no one of his trip to the continent, nor of what seemed to
be plaguing him here.
Bellatrix did not seem to be convinced, but she knew better than to
press the matter.
"Has your sister had any luck in finding it?"
"Not yet, my lord. She has found another room, but since she is not
a Malfoy, she is struggling to enter it. She will, my lord. I will help her
myself."
Voldemort hummed.
He needed the diary.
Without Wormtail to enter Hogwarts, he did not feel comfortable
confronting Potter or Dumbledore without his assurance in place.
Eventually, he would have to infiltrate the castle, but would only do
so when the diary or another of his Horcruxes had been returned to
him.
A Power the Dark Lord knows not…
Grindelwald had spoken the words of the prophecy to him, and
though he was loath to admit it, Voldemort was more unnerved by
them and the rather blasé amusement the man had displayed.
"See that she does, Bella. Now, find Rabastan, by any means
necessary."
Bellatrix grinned in response before taking her leave of the room,
and the Dark Lord shook his head.
Perhaps he should have urged caution.
Bellatrix took the term 'by any means necessary' quite literally, and
she had such little grasp on her self-control that it was likely several
would be dead in her pursuit to locate her brother-in-law.
Voldemort shuddered again and shot a glare towards where the cold
had come from.
He could do without the torment, though he knew there was little
chance that it would let up any time soon.
It had merely been a stroke of luck that Harry had come across
Rabastan Lestrange in Knockturn Alley. He had been returning from
a meeting of a more personal nature when he'd decided to stop
there on the off chance that he may find a Death Eater or two on his
travels.
Evidently, Rabastan had not been concerned by what had happened
to Crabbe, Jugson, and Mulciber or he arrogantly believed he was
untouchable.
It had taken little effort to sneak up on the man beneath the cloak to
stun him and bring him to his own ancestral home.
Lestrange Manor had already been seized by the Ministry, and it was
unlikely any would look for Rabastan here from the risk of being
caught doing so.
Harry eyed the unconscious Lestrange from the seat he occupied
only a few feet away deciding what he would do with him.
" Ennervate," he murmured a moment later.
Rabastan's eyes fluttered open and he frowned when he realised
where he was before shifting his attention towards Harry.
"Potter," he growled.
"Me," Harry replied with a smirk.
"The Dark Lord is going to kill you!" Rabastan hissed, struggling
against the bonds that held him.
Harry chuckled.
"Crabbe made the same threat," he revealed. "You all do. It's getting
rather boring."
"Untie me and I will kill you."
Harry raised an eyebrow at the man.
"Do you really fancy your chances?"
Rabastan bared his yellowing teeth challengingly.
"You're not half as terrifying as Greyback," Harry commented.
"Would you untie me if our roles were reversed? No because just like
the rest of you who run around in masks, you're a coward. Now,
what do I do with you?" Harry asked as he stood banishing his chair
so it smashed against the opposing wall.
For the first time since he had awoken, Rabastan showed signs of
his nervousness.
"Ah, you understand your position," Harry acknowledged. "Well, I'm
afraid that I won't be offering you a quick and painless death," he
sighed. "Your master seems to think that he is the only one capable
of cruelty, but he is wrong. You have no idea what lengths I am
willing to go to, but you will. Crucio! "
Harry held the man under the curse for several moments before
relenting and kneeling down next to the heavily breathing Rabastan.
"You know the curse well, don't you?" he asked coldly. "You held
Frank and Alice Longbottom under it for so long that they lost their
minds. Maybe I should do the same to you?"
Rabastan shook his head, but before he could open his mouth to
protest, Harry placed him under the curse once more, eliciting a
bloodcurdling scream from the man.
"It hurts, doesn't it, Lestrange?" Harry questioned.
Rabastan's lips were bleeding from where he had bitten through
them and he looked at Harry in a mixture of hatred and fear.
"Now you understand what the Longbottoms felt when you did this to
them. Let's move on, shall we?"
Rabastan frowned in confusion and gasped in shock as Harry
removed his wand hand with a severing curse.
"No, we can't have you bleeding out," Harry sighed before searing
the wound closed, provoking a girlish scream from what remained of
the Lestrange family. "What shall we go for next?"
Rabastan whimpered, trembling as he shook his head pleadingly.
"Did the Longbottoms beg for you to stop?" Harry asked. "I imagine
they did, even if it was only for the sake of their son."
Rabastan groaned as Harry drove the heel of his boot into the man's
groin.
"Answer me, Rabastan!" he demanded. "Did they beg for you to
stop?"
Lestrange nodded and proceeded to vomit as Harry kicked him
again for good measure.
"See, that wasn't so hard, was it?" he questioned, frowning as he felt
the presence of another approaching. "It seems as though we have
company," he murmured, stunning Lestrange before disappearing
into the folds of his cloak.
It wasn't Voldemort that had come.
Harry knew the feeling of the man's magic more intimately than he
would like, though whomever it was that approached was familiar to
him.
Karkaroff?
Harry clenched his jaw as a figure entered the room beneath an
invisibility cloak of their own, and that was when the realisation hit
him.
It wasn't Karkaroff, but Barty Crouch Junior whom Harry had a
personal score to settle with.
He watched as Rabastan's body was lightly disturbed as Crouch
checked him over.
"Still alive," the man whispered thoughtfully, becoming still as he
realised that it was likely someone was still here.
Evidently, he believed he was quite safe under his cloak, but Harry
could feel Crouch's magic. It was almost like seeing the man with his
own eyes as he tracked his target when carefully made his way to
one of the corners of the room.
Harry suspected Crouch would attempt to ambush him.
With a grin and a flick of his wand, the door that Crouch had entered
through swung open with a crash.
"Who's there?" Harry's voice sounded from the doorway and he
could feel Crouch readying himself to attack.
Voldemort would be furious that he had not immediately been sent
for upon Rabastan being discovered, but Crouch was undoubtedly
rather unhinged and believed he had an advantage here.
He did not, and when Harry made it seem as though his footsteps
were approaching the room, Barty sprang into action, realising his
mistake as the sickly, yellow curse he'd sent towards the sound
merely dissipated against the opposing wall.
"What the…"
With a dull thud, Crouch crumbled to the ground with his skull almost
cleaved in two from the splitting curse Harry had used.
Again, the man had opted to use Polyjuice potion in an attempt to
hide his identity, but having experienced Crouch's tactic once before,
almost at the cost of Karkaroff's life, Harry would not fall for it again.
Instead, he would wait for Crouch to regain consciousness, and
before long, the Dark Lord would have two gifts delivered to him
instead of one.
Harry had not returned home last night.
He had left with a still downtrodden Cassiopeia shortly after dinner,
and the woman had returned a few hours later, heading for her
bedroom immediately.
Both had been acting odd over the past week, but neither had
mentioned why they were feeling particularly mournful.
Harry seemed to have become more determined than ever to
eliminate Voldemort's followers and had been doing so rather
proficiently. He had not explained why nor taken credit for the bodies
discovered in Knockturn Alley, but Lucinda did not need him to.
There was no other in Britain who would do what had been done to
the men.
Lucinda looked towards the clock in the kitchen.
It was almost 10am, and once more, Cassiopeia had opted to work
from home for the day, leaving her to wait for Harry to return.
Was he okay?
He often kept odd hours, but he'd always been home before sunrise.
Before she could become too worried, however, he entered the
kitchen and Lucinda's nose twitched at the various scents wafting
from him.
Blood was the most prominent, but there was something else more
familiar to her lingering beneath it.
"Hello," Harry greeted her with a tired smile.
He seemed to be somewhat nervous and Lucinda frowned at him.
"Has something happened?" she asked.
Harry shook his head.
"I don't think so."
The vampire narrowed her eyes at him.
"You've not been yourself recently, nor has Cassie," she pointed out.
Harry deflated as he took the seat next to her.
"Something did happen, but I'm not ready to talk about it yet," he
replied apologetically.
Lucinda nodded her understanding and took his hand.
"And what about last night?" she probed with a smirk. "Did you find
yourself a nice witch to spend some time with?"
Harry scoffed at the teasing tone.
"Or another vampire?" Lucinda added.
That was what she could smell on him along with the blood. He had
spent time in the company of her kind.
Harry's eyes lit with amusement.
"Jealous?"
Lucinda quirked an eyebrow in his direction.
"Oh, Potter, if I thought for one second you had been sampling
others, we wouldn't be having this conversation," she replied airily. "I
would have already sunk my fangs into your neck…"
"Until I was dry and desiccated," Harry finished.
"Exactly," Lucinda confirmed, flashing the aforementioned fangs and
eliciting a chuckle from him. "It's not funny. I already have to fight the
urge to bite you during our more intimate moments."
"Really?"
Lucinda nodded demurely as she leaned in and ran her tongue along
the length of his ear.
"It would only be too easy to," she whispered before withdrawing.
"You know, you've made the threat so many times now. Why don't
you just do it," Harry urged, exposing his neck to her.
Lucinda shuddered at the sight of the exposed flesh, and she licked
her lips hungrily.
He knew better than to tease her in such a way, and yet, not a week
went by when he did not tempt her.
Thus far, Lucinda had managed to refrain, and though she knew she
would never cave to her instinct to do so, it was exceedingly difficult
to ignore.
"Put it away," she growled, conceding defeat of the back and forth
between them.
It was the only way Harry could get the better of her, unless it came
to a battle with their wands.
Lucinda took pride in how adept with her magic she was, but Harry
was simply better.
He'd dedicated more time than any understanding the intricacies of
it, and though his had changed remarkably since they had first met,
he seemed to adapt to it once more with little difficulty.
"You were right," Harry sighed. "I was with vampires. I saw your
mother…"
"You had better choose your next words carefully," Lucinda
interjected, her eyes narrowing.
Harry laughed heartily as he held up a hand.
"I was with your mother and father," he finished.
Lucinda frowned in confusion.
"Why were you with my parents?"
He became nervous once more and took a deep breath before
speaking.
"Well, it's tradition to seek permission from someone's parents if you
want to marry them."
Lucinda merely blinked in response, unsure if she had heard Harry
correctly.
"M-marry?" she choked in disbelief.
Harry nodded.
"I went to speak with them about it," he explained gently as he took
her hand.
"I don't understand," Lucinda muttered thoughtfully. "I'm a vampire.
This won't look good for you, will it?"
Harry shrugged.
"People can either like it or bugger off," he replied.
"What about Cassie?"
Harry smirked amusedly as he shook his head.
"It was kind of her idea. Well, she helped me realise what it is I
already knew."
"How?" Lucinda asked confusedly.
She liked to think she had built a meaningful rapport with the woman
she spent so much time with, but Lucinda still could not make sense
of any of this.
It wasn't that she was opposed to the idea, but she needed to
understand how this had come about.
"Come with me and I can show you, if you like?"
With a frown, and her head swimming as though she was in a
dream, Lucinda followed Harry to his study where he placed the tip
of his wand to his temple and pulled a long, white thread free.
Depositing it into a pensieve on his desk, he gestured for her to
enter.
Lucinda did so and found herself in the very same room she had
seemingly just left, the only difference being that there was a Harry
already seated behind the desk.
A knock sounded at the door.
"Come in,"the memory Harry instructed.
It was Cassiopeia that entered.
She said nothing as she approached and laid a stack of envelopes
on the desk.
Harry frowned at them.
"What have you done about them?" Cassiopeia asked.
"I have replied to them," Harry sighed.
"Expressing your interest."
"No. Now is not the right time to consider marriage, as I explained to
each of them."
Cassiopeia hummed.
"Is that the truth or is there another reason you are not at least
considering them?"
Harry turned his frown towards the woman.
"What is that supposed to mean?"
Cassiopeia offered him a sad smile as she took a seat opposite him.
"Lucinda."
Harry's eyes narrowed at the woman that had raised him before he
deflated.
"Maybe," he murmured.
"Is it just the physical side of things with her?"
Harry grimaced.
"I'm not discussing that with you," he choked.
Cassiopeia tutted.
"I'm old, but not blind or foolish," she returned evenly. "You have
made no secret about the time you spend together."
"Which is no concern of anyone else," Harry pointed out.
"True," Cassiopeia acknowledged, "but is it because of her that you
are not considering other options. Some of these are from the most
prominent families in Britain."
"I know," Harry huffed irritably.
"You love her."
"What?"
"Lucinda. You are in love with her and you are torn between doing
what you want to and what is expected of you."
Lucinda froze as she waited for Harry to respond, her stomach
fluttering with butterflies.
It felt as though an eternity passed her by before Harry released a
deep breath and nodded. In this moment, he was more vulnerable
than Lucinda had ever seen him.
"I am," he confirmed unashamedly.
Much to Lucinda's surprise, Cassiopeia smiled before standing and
rounding the desk.
"Then why haven't you done anything about it?" she asked. "Charlus
and Dorea married for love, as did Arcturus and Melania. As much as
your grandfather and I did not get along, I will not deny that he and
Dorea were the happiest people I knew because they had each
other."
"My parents too," Harry murmured. "I didn't think you would
approve."
Cassiopeia cupped Harry's cheek as she offered him a rare, warm
smile.
"I can't ignore what Healer Galanis told us," she explained. "You
marrying someone would mean that you would outlive them by
centuries. I don't want you to be alone, Harry, but more than
anything, I want you to be happy. You've given enough to the people
of Britain. You should do this for yourself, if that is what you want.
I've gotten to know the girl, and I do approve of her. I think she is
good for you."
"Good for me?" Harry chuckled.
Cassiopeia nodded.
"You seem to bring out a carefree side in each other. You've spent
your entire life with Voldemort hanging over you and dedicated
everything to putting an end to him. You've been a bloody pain with
your jokes and mischief, but the freest I've seen you is when you are
with her. Everyone in this house can see what you mean to each
other, so for once, think of yourself."
"You're forgetting one thing," Harry snorted. "She might not want to
marry me. A thousand years is a long time, even for a vampire."
"Have you discussed it?"
Harry shook his head.
"No," he answered.
"Well, you can take it from me; she will make the perfect Lady Black
and Potter. If I have learned anything about Lucinda, it is that she
cares for you as much as you do her. I would bet my last galleon that
she has thought about marrying you, even if she does not believe it
to be possible."
"Really?"
Cassiopeia nodded.
"She loves you, Harry, and not for your wealth and titles. That is rare
in itself in the political field you have to navigate. Lucinda would feel
the same about you if you were a pauper without two Knuts to rub
together."
Lucinda nodded as she swallowed deeply.
It was true.
Being raised in a vampire community, politics nor fame meant
nothing to her. She understood the concept of wealth, but again, she
had forever to accumulate it if she so desired.
No, Harry could indeed be a beggar on the street and it would not
matter.
"Do you have any idea how to approach this?" Harry asked
curiously. "Do I send a proposal contract to her parents?"
"I would visit them in person to discuss it," Cassiopeia urged. "You
wouldn't want to come across as presumptuous, especially as they
may not give their approval. I expect that one of their kind marrying a
human isn't common, so I cannot even hazard a guess at what
stipulations they may wish to have in place."
Harry nodded his understanding.
"I'll pay them a visit," he agreed. "Should I speak to Lucinda first?"
Cassiopeia shook her head.
"Not until you've spoken to them first," she advised. "Best not get her
hopes up lest something does not go to plan."
"Get her hopes up," Harry chuckled. "She's the one who is going to
have to deal with the crap that being a lady entails. I'll be bloody
lucky if she agrees to it."
Lucinda laughed as she felt herself being pulled from the pensieve
and found herself greeted by the nervous Harry who had shared the
memory with her.
"You're crying," he pointed out.
Lucinda didn't realise that the tears had spilled down her cheeks and
she wiped them away as she cursed in her mother tongue.
"Is the idea that bad?" Harry asked as he took her hands in his own.
Lucinda shook her head as she smiled brightly.
"Only if it is what you want."
"And you," Harry replied.
Lucinda nodded tentatively, not from hesitation, but disbelief.
"What did my parents say?" she asked.
"Well, I went to see them."
"To speak about a contract?"
Harry snorted derisively.
"No, not a contract exactly, even if your father did want to be difficult
about it."
Lucinda's stomach sunk.
"My father? What did he say?"
"He wants to see you, well, us together," Harry explained. "Both of
them promised they would give their approval if it is what you want,
and if Draikon agrees to it."
Lucinda nodded her understanding.
"So, we are really going to get married? This isn't some dream or
horrible joke?"
It certainly felt like the former, and she did not know what she would
do if it was the latter.
No, Harry liked to joke, but he would not be so cruel.
"Only if you say yes," Harry replied.
Lucinda hummed thoughtfully as she looked at him.
"Aren't you supposed to get down on one knee and ask?" she
queried. "That is what humans do, isn't it?"
"Is that what you want?"
"You could always do it the vampire way."
"What is the vampire way?" Harry asked curiously.
Lucinda grinned.
"You'd have to prove your strength by beating me in combat. If I
approve, I will submit and you will then sink your fangs into my neck,
marking me as yours."
"Well, I can't overpower you and I don't have fangs," Harry chuckled.
"Then you will have to do it the human way," Lucinda decided, "but
not until we have gotten permission from my parents," she added
airily as she walked towards the door.
"Where are you going?" Harry asked confusedly.
"To my room, alone," Lucinda answered with a teasing smile. "Is it
not a human thing to be pure until you're married?"
"It's a bit late for that," Harry pointed out.
"That's true, but I can make you wait until you've put a ring on my
finger before I let you enjoy the perks of marriage any more than you
already have."
"You wouldn't do that."
Lucinda raised an eyebrow in his direction.
"Try me, Potter," she replied before taking her leave of the study and
heading towards her room, her head still swimming with what had
happened and her heart all but aflame in her chest.
In truth, Lucinda was still in a state of disbelief, and she was not
certain she wouldn't wake up and it had indeed all been a dream.
The smell of burning wood and scorched stone filled his nose as he
approached the still smouldering remains of what had been
Lestrange Manor where he could see Bellatrix standing only a short
distance away from her former home.
The Dark Lord felt himself filled with a burning fury as he neared the
woman and he spotted the two corpses at her feet.
Both Barty and Rabastan had been mutilated horrifically, and Potter's
magic lingered in the air around them.
Two prominent houses had been ended in a single night, the two
men the last of their lines.
"He left this," Bellatrix whispered as she handed a piece of bloodied
parchment to the Dark Lord.
This doesn't end until you are one of them, Tom Riddle. Your
reckoning approaches and I will take more than my pound of flesh
from you. Mind, Body, and SOUL, I will conquer and destroy you.
Potter knew.
Somehow, his secret had indeed been uncovered, and though the
Dark Lord did not know how, he was left in no doubt that Potter had
learned of his Horcruxes.
Burning the piece of parchment with a flick of his wand, he turned
away from Lestrange Manor and stalked back towards the gates,
unable to shift the feeling of discomfort that had settled within him.
It had been prominent for some time, but now, it only weighed
heavier.
Potter should be no threat to him, and yet, it was unmistakeable.
The boy had defied the odds as a babe, and now, he had all but
evened them.