Chapter 27: About the FutureChapter Text"Enter."
Harry pushed the door as he heard the click of it opening and entered, shutting the door behind him. The circular office hummed with magical energy as Harry walked over to the headmaster and settled into the chair across from him. The surface of the Pensieve rippled gently, and the portraits of former headmasters pretended to sleep, although Harry knew they were listening intently. His eyes fell on Fawkes and he smiled when the phoenix trilled softly from his perch, sending his comfort to ease the tension that was pervading the atmosphere in the office.
Dumbledore's piercing blue eyes met Harry's, and he could easily discern a mixture of warmth and worry in their depths.
"Thank you for coming, Harry," Dumbledore said, gesturing to the Pensieve that sat on the desk. Harry gazed at its silvery contents that swirled, and there were few sights as mesmerizing and mysterious. "I believe we have another crucial memory to examine tonight."
Harry nodded, resolving to bring up the issue of the Azkaban breakout once they were done here as he leaned forward. "Whose memory is it this time, sir?"
"An old professor of Tom's, from his days here at Hogwarts. Professor Galatea Merrythought, to be precise. She taught Defense Against the Dark Arts during Tom's time as a student."
Harry's eyebrows rose slightly at the unknown name, and even Val's memories didn't clue him into who this woman was. He suspected she must have left the school before Val arrived.
"Did she suspect anything about him back then?" Harry asked curiously.
Dumbledore's expression turned thoughtful as he stroked his beard. "That, Harry, is part of what we're here to discover. This memory we are going to watch comprises of several interactions Professor Merrythought had with Tom over the years. I believe it will provide us with some valuable insight into his development and interests during his time here at Hogwarts. Are you ready?"
Harry nodded and they both leaned forward. As their faces touched the cool surface of the memory, the office dissolved around them.
XXXXX
They found themselves in a Hogwarts classroom, but one that looked decidedly different from the ones Harry knew. The desks were older, the décor more spartan, and there were decidedly more students in the classroom. At the front of the class stood a witch with steel-gray hair and sharp brown eyes, surveying her students.
Harry cast his gaze around the classroom and he was immediately drawn to a tall, handsome boy in Slytherin robes. Even as a teenager, Tom Riddle exuded an aura of charisma and power that set him apart from his peers.
The memory played out, showing Riddle staying after class to ask Professor Merrythought questions about advanced defensive magic. His queries were clever, probing, and always pushing at the boundaries of what was taught.
"Professor Merrythought," he said, his voice smooth and respectful, "I was wondering if you could recommend any additional reading on shield charms? I find the subject fascinating."
Merrythought looked visibly pleased as she gazed at the young Tom Riddle. "Of course, Mr. Riddle. It's refreshing to see such enthusiasm from one of my students. There are several excellent texts in the library, though you might need permission to access some in the Restricted Section."
The scene morphed around Harry and Dumbledore, and both Tom and Professor Merrythought looked older.
"Professor, I've been researching ancient protective magic. Is it true that some cultures used blood magic in their wards?"
Merrythought's eyes narrowed slightly. "Yes, Mr. Riddle, but such practices are severely frowned upon in our society due to the dangers they present. Where did you come across this information, if I may ask?"
"Just some independent reading, Professor," Riddle replied smoothly. "I'm curious about all aspects of magical protection, even the more... controversial ones."
Another shift brought them to what appeared to be Riddle's sixth or seventh year. He was discussing a complex theory with Merrythought, and Harry could see that his knowledge was clearly well beyond that of a typical student.
"But surely, Professor," Riddle was saying, his voice smooth as silk, "if one could find a way to magically enhance their own innate abilities, it would revolutionize defensive magic. Imagine being able to cast shields that could repel even the most powerful curses. There must be ways to magically enhance one's own abilities beyond what's commonly known, right?"
Merrythought's eyes narrowed slightly. "There are always ways to push magical boundaries, Mr. Riddle. But one must be cautious. Magic that enhances often comes at a great cost."
"A price that might be worth paying… One that the right wizard would be willing to pay for the boons it would grant," Riddle mused, his dark eyes glinting with ambition.
The scene shifted once again, showing multiple interactions between Riddle and Merrythought over what seemed to be weeks or even months. Each time, Riddle's questions grew more specific and more dangerous. And each time, Merrythought's suspicion seemed to grow.
The final scene showed Merrythought in the Headmaster's office, one that still belonged to the former headmaster Armando Dippet. He also spotted the younger Dumbledore sitting to the side of the desk, his hair and beard still auburn. However, his eyes already held the same penetrating gaze they had today.
"I'm telling you, Armando," she said, pacing anxiously. "That boy is delving into magic far beyond his years. The questions he asks... they're not just academic curiosity. There's an obsession there… a hunger for power that worries me."
"Surely you are exaggerating, Galatea," Armando Dippet chuckled. "Tom is a curious boy, always has been."
Professor Merrythought turned to stare at the younger Dumbledore who sat with his lips pursed. "You already know my concerns, Armando," Dumbledore sighed. "There truly might be something dark lurking behind the politeness. It would not hurt to keep a close eye on him."
"It's not just that," Merrythought continued without letting Headmaster Dippet get a word in. "He's been asking about magical artifacts lately. Ancient, powerful objects. The Sword of Gryffindor, Ravenclaw's diadem, things like that. He seems fixated on objects of historical and magical significance, almost as if he desires to possess them."
"Simple curiosity of a bright student in the legends of Hogwarts. Weren't we all like that at the age, fascinated by artifacts of legend?"
"I cannot fault you for thinking that," Dumbledore sighed. "Now when I was once absorbed in ancient legendary artifacts myself."
The memory began to fade, and Harry found himself being pulled back to the present once again.
XXXXX
With a swirl of silver, Harry and Dumbledore found themselves back in the present-day office. Harry blinked, adjusting to the shift in time and place.
"That was intense," Harry said, breaking the silence. "It's always strange, seeing him as a student while knowing what he becomes."
Dumbledore nodded solemnly. "Indeed, Harry. Tom Riddle was a brilliant student, perhaps one of the most talented to ever pass through Hogwarts. But as we saw, his brilliance was paired with a dangerous ambition and a growing fascination with the darker aspects of magic."
"So," Harry began, processing what he'd seen, "Tom was already experimenting with dark magic while he was still a student? And Professor Merrythought suspected something?"
Dumbledore sighed heavily, sinking back into his chair. "Indeed. His fascination with pushing magical boundaries was evident even then. Galatea was a skilled witch and an observant teacher. She recognized the danger in Tom's inquiries, even if she couldn't foresee the full extent of what he would become."
Harry frowned, thinking. "Did you notice his particular interest in magic that could enhance abilities? And the way he manipulated the professor, always staying after class, playing the role of the eager student?"
"Excellent observations, Harry," Dumbledore nodded approvingly. "Yes, Tom was already seeking ways to make himself more powerful, to transcend normal magical limitations. And he was very adept at presenting the face people wanted to see – the brilliant, charming student."
"And those questions about magical artifacts… surely that's about the Horcruxes?"
"The Horcruxes?" Dumbledore said quietly, though the office was empty save for them. "It gives us insight into Tom's mindset, Harry. Even then, he was drawn to magic that could make him exceptional, immortal. He was likely already considering the creation of Horcruxes, even if he hadn't yet learned the specifics. I believe Tom's interest in powerful magical objects began long before he learned about Horcruxes. He was always drawn to things of significance, items that would reflect his perceived greatness."
Dumbledore stood, pacing slowly behind his desk. "Moreover, it shows us that Tom was drawn to places of magical significance, to artifacts with history. The questions he asked Professor Merrythought often revolved around famous magical objects or locations. This memory reinforces my belief that Tom wouldn't have been content to use just any object for his Horcruxes. He would have sought out items of great magical or historical importance. This could narrow our search."
Harry nodded, his mind racing. "So… we should be looking for places or things that have powerful magical histories? Things that would appeal to Voldemort's sense of... what, grandeur?"
"Precisely," Dumbledore smiled sadly. "Tom always had a flair for the dramatic, a desire to associate himself with greatness. I believe this trait extended to his choice of Horcrux vessels and hiding places."
"So far, we know that the diary, the locket, the diadem, and the one inside me have been destroyed," Harry remarked. "Professor Slughorn said that Voldemort was fixated on the number '7'. That would point to three more Horcruxes we need to find and destroy."
"Considering you were an accidental Horcrux, I am inclined to agree," Dumbledore nodded. "And one of those is the Cup of Helga Hufflepuff, as we know from the previous memory."
They sat in contemplative silence for a moment before Harry spoke again, his tone somber. "Sir, about the Azkaban breakout a few days ago... What do you think it means for the war?"
Dumbledore's expression grew grave. "Ah yes, a most troubling development. The escape of so many high-ranking Death Eaters is a significant blow to our side, Harry. It means Voldemort's inner circle is nearly complete once more."
"It means he's growing stronger, doesn't it?" Harry said, standing up. "Voldemort's building his army again. And now he has some of his most dangerous followers back."
"The Lestrange brothers, the Carrow twins, Dolohov, Rookwood… they are some of his most dangerous Death Eaters, and they are roaming free now," Harry whispered.
"Indeed," Dumbledore agreed. "I find it curious about the timing of it though…"
"Sir?"
"Why now?" Dumbledore asked. "I do not think Tom has regained his powers. My sources did tell me he was no longer in Albania, but I believe he is still rather weak. For Greyback to have inside help from the Ministry to break those Death Eaters out of Azkaban…"
"He must have help from someone powerful," Harry theorized, earning a nod from Dumbledore.
"A part of me thinks it is someone who pleaded innocence under the Imperius, but I truly believe they do not want Tom to come back. If there is one thing Tom will never forget, it is betrayal. They know their lives are forfeit if Tom regains his powers."
"Not Malfoy or his thugs then," Harry muttered. "What do you think they're planning then?"
"Restoring Tom would be their utmost priority now," Dumbledore said confidently. "Even after it happens, I do not believe Tom would move openly. The breakout itself serves multiple purposes for him. It returns his most loyal followers to his side, demonstrates his power to both allies and enemies, and spreads fear throughout the wizarding community."
"But surely he'll do something with this advantage," Harry pressed.
"Oh, he will," Dumbledore agreed. "I suspect we'll see an increase in targeted attacks, perhaps against key Ministry officials or members of the Order that fought against him previously. Voldemort will likely focus on infiltrating the Ministry further, placing his people in key positions. And, of course, he'll continue to recruit, using the breakout as proof of his growing power."
Harry nodded grimly. "And what about us, sir? What's our next move?"
Dumbledore's blue eyes twinkled with a hint of their old spark. "We, Harry, will continue our most important work. Understanding Tom's past, locating and destroying his Horcruxes – this remains our primary mission."
Harry drummed his fingers on the table, his mind whirling. "We need to accelerate this, sir. Finding and destroying the Horcruxes – it's more urgent than ever."
Dumbledore nodded, a mix of pride and sorrow in his eyes. "Indeed, Harry. But we must also be cautious. Voldemort will be emboldened by this success. We must anticipate his next move while continuing our own mission."
Harry nodded with a sigh as he stood up, his mind whirling with everything they had discussed. As he prepared to leave the office, Dumbledore spoke once more. "Remember, Harry – in times of darkness, it is hope and love that give us strength. Voldemort may have his army, but we have something he will never understand."
Harry nodded with a small smile, thinking of Daphne, Fleur, Valerie, and all those who stood against the darkness. With a final glance at Dumbledore, he left the office, his mind racing with the weight of their task and the growing shadows outside the castle walls. The war, it seemed, was finally beginning.
XXXXX
The elegant living room in the Beauxbatons carriage was awash with the warm glow of the glittering lamps that hung off the walls. A few days had passed since his meeting with Dumbledore and Harry found himself sat on a plush velvet sofa with his three wives nestled comfortably on either side of him.
It had been a fun few minutes since they had arrived. Gabrielle had been ecstatic to meet them all again. She had two big sisters and a brother now, after all. They all had been highly amused as Harry entertained her while she kept blabbering in rapid French which he could understand only because he had Fleur's memories and understanding of the language now.
Antoine Delacour, Fleur's father, stood by the ornate fireplace, sipping leisurely as he watched his wife, Apolline, glide by him carrying a tray laden with an assortment of delicate pastries and a steaming pot of hot tea. The scent of freshly baked pastries and Earl Grey filled the air as the woman placed the tray on the table.
"More refreshments, everyone?" She asked, her voice light and musical. Her veela heritage was always evident in her graceful movements and ethereal beauty, just like Fleur. Harry glanced at his wife and gave her an affectionate squeeze as he pulled her closer.
"Merci, Maman," Fleur said with a smile at her mother as she helped her pour tea into fine, porcelain cups.
Harry nodded his thanks as he accepted his cup. Turning toward Antoine, he asked, "When is your friend arriving, Antoine?"
As if on cue, the fireplace flared an ethereal shade of emerald and they watched as a balding, middle-aged man emerged from it, dusting the soot off his wizarding robes.
"Sal," Antoine greeted his friend with a hug and led him over. Everyone stood up, quickly introducing themselves to the man who greeted them all respectfully as he took his seat and accepted a cup of tea.
They had been discussing their future for a while now, which meant getting their new home ready. 12 Grimmauld Place was nice and much larger than they needed, but it was not theirs, and for their family, they all wanted a place that belonged entirely to them. It also counted that Fleur was adamant about their new home being, as she had just said multiple times before, somewhere warm, and Grimmauld was anything but.
"This is very kind of you, Mr. Ricci, to come all the way here to meet us," Harry said, his emerald eyes warm with appreciation.
"Please call me Salvatore, or Sal, if you prefer," the man waved his hand dismissively, speaking with a thick accent. "Any friend of Antoine's is a friend of mine, and you are his son in law. It basically makes us family as well. Although, I didn't expect I'd be meeting the Harry Potter today, or the fact that he'd be married to dear Fleur here. Not to mention Fleur happily sharing her husband with two more women who are both already married to him? This day has indeed turned into a surprising one. That reminds me… Don't you dare cheap out on a celebration, Delacour! I want a grand party to celebrate Fleur's wedding."
Everyone chuckled good-naturedly as Antoine nodded.
Smiling, Salvatore turned back to Harry and continued, "When he told me his famous son-in-law was looking for a family home… well, how could I resist? It's not everyday one gets to help the savior of the wizarding world find his dream home for his family."
Antoine chuckled as he moved to sit in an armchair. "Sal and I go way back, Harry. We were in the same year at Beauxbatons. There is no one better to help you find the perfect property."
"You do need to tell me your requirements first," Salvatore remarked, gazing ahead expectantly.
"It has to be somewhere warm," Fleur spoke promptly, to no one's surprise.
"The south coast could fit your requirements," Antoine mused out loud as Salvatore nodded. "Cornwall, maybe? Isn't that warmer than the rest? Or perhaps the Channel Islands? Those are closer to France as well."
"Does it really have to be Britain?" Daphne asked. "I mean, I like this country, but we should not count out other places if we can find better properties there."
"The signora does have a point," Salvatore remarked.
"Well, I won't say no to limiting our time here in this country. It gets cold even down south, although it doesn't snow," Valerie mused.
"Wow, we're not even decided on the country yet," Harry whistled with a chuckle as Apolline arrived with Gabrielle in tow. The young veela quickly joined her father as Harry gave her a grin, chuckling when she grinned brightly.
"It's not as if you've been of any help so far," Daphne chided gently, gracing the young veela with a smile. "It's gonna be our home. Don't you have any ideas?"
"I'm fine with whatever you three choose," Harry shrugged.
"What about somewhere like Greece or Italy? They have some nice villas," Apolline suggested.
"A Sicilian villa," Valerie remarked, exchanging matching grins with her sister-wives. "That sounds like a lovely idea."
"Even better if it has a private beach," Fleur grinned mischievously as she glanced from Daphne and Valerie to Harry. The Delacours exchanged an amused look with Salvatore who looked entirely at ease, having had such encounters with several couples over the years.
"I believe I would be able to help you out if you're truly serious about branching out of Britain," the man remarked as he pulled out his wand, and with a flourish, he conjured a large, shimmering image in the air between them. "Now, let me show you what I believe will be the perfect retreat for your family."
The image showed a breathtaking villa perched on a cliff overlooking the Mediterranean. Its modern lines blended seamlessly with the rugged coastline, walls of glass reflecting the blue of the sea and sky. The structure seemed to grow organically from the rocky landscape. It truly was a masterpiece of magical architecture.
"We've named this Villa Celestia," Salvatore began, his voice taking on a tone of reverence. "It's our most exclusive offering, and I believe it will meet all your requirements for privacy, security, and luxury."
Harry leaned forward; his gaze intense as he took in the property presented. He felt both Fleur and Daphne squeeze his hand as they too leaned forward with Valerie who grasped Fleur's hand firmly, their gazes fixed on the magical projection.
Salvatore waved his wand, and the view changed, showing a sweeping aerial perspective of the property. "The estate covers over 25,000 square meters, with the villa itself boasting 7,500 square meters of living space. Twelve bedrooms, fourteen bathrooms, separate rooms for any hobby you might have, bet it dueling, art, or games. This property also takes the muggle heritage into consideration, with a magically insulated home theater, a fully equipped spa, and a state-of-the-art kitchen that would satisfy even the most demanding house-elf, or a muggle chef. You can customize any room into anything you want, so if the number of bedrooms and bathrooms is more than you need, you will be able to modify them into whatever you want."
"It's breathtaking," Fleur murmured, her French accent more pronounced in her wonder. Both Daphne and Valerie nodded.
"Let's start with the main living areas," Salvatore continued, manipulating the image to zoom in on the villa's interior. "The heart of the home is this grand salon."
The image shifted to show a vast, open-plan space with soaring ceilings and floor-to-ceiling windows framing the sea view. "As you can see, it's designed for both intimate family gatherings and larger entertainment. The enchanted windows can be adjusted to control the light or even display different views entirely - perhaps a snowy Alpine scene for Christmas?"
Valerie nodded appreciatively. "That's brilliant. It would be perfect for hosting our families and friends during holidays."
Salvatore smiled. "Indeed. Now, moving on to the kitchen..." The image changed to showcase a gleaming, professional-grade kitchen. "It's equipped with both magical and Muggle appliances. The pantry is enchanted with permanent cooling and freshness charms, and there's a separate wine cellar with a collection that would make the finest wine enthusiast envious."
"Oh, 'Arry," Fleur exclaimed, her accent in full bloom. "Imagine the feasts we could prepare 'ere!"
"The master suite occupies most of the top floor," Salvatore continued, the image shifting once more. "It includes a private study, a massive walk-in closet, and this bathroom..."
The view changed to reveal the most luxurious bathroom they had ever seen, with a sunken tub overlooking the sea. "The tub has enchanted taps, similar to the prefects' bathroom at Hogwarts, I'm told. And the entire suite opens onto a private terrace with a 360-degree view of the coast."
Harry whistled softly. "That's something else."
"Now, for the outdoor areas," Salvatore said, his wand dancing in the air. The image pulled back to show the grounds. "The villa is set in beautifully landscaped gardens, with several outdoor living and dining areas. There's a 35-meter infinity pool that seems to merge with the sea beyond, a Quidditch pitch disguised as a tennis court to Muggle eyes, and yes, a helipad - though I imagine you might prefer to arrive by more... magical means."
"What about the wards?" Daphne asked, forcing herself to take her eyes off the image.
Salvatore smiled, "The wards on the property are top-notch. They extend well into the air and sea, preventing any unauthorized magical or Muggle access."
Harry nodded, a small smile playing on his lips. "And the beach? I understand the Mediterranean coast can be quite busy in the summer and as my lovely wives said, a private beach is a must."
"Damn right," all three young women nodded as one, earning chuckles from everyone present.
Salvatore's eyes twinkled. "Ah, that's where Villa Celestia truly shines." He flicked his wand again, and the image shifted to show a pristine crescent of white sand, framed by rocky outcroppings. "Nearly 500 meters of completely private beachfront. The property's magical wards extend into the sea, ensuring total seclusion. No Muggles - or unwanted magical visitors - can approach by land or sea without your express permission."
"The wards must be customizable," Valerie mused, earning a nod from the man.
"Indeed," he replied. "You can key them to allow access for family and friends, much like it's done in most places, like the Delacour Chateau."
Fleur nodded, smiling.
Apolline, who had been quietly observing, spoke up. "And what of the local magical community, Salvatore? I'm sure our children would appreciate some discretion."
"Of course, Madame Delacour," Salvatore replied smoothly. "The nearby magical village of Stellamaris is known for its respect for privacy. Many prominent wizarding families from across the world have homes in the area, although none as grand as this. They understand the value of... shall we say, minding one's own cauldron?"
"The village itself is quite charming," Antoine interjected, having visited the place before. "Excellent restaurants, a few boutique shops, and a small but well-stocked magical market. It's about a five-minute broom ride from the villa if you want to fly over."
Harry leaned back, processing all the information. "It sounds incredible, but I have to ask - what about security? Given our, er, public profile, we'd hate to have any issues with overzealous fans and the occasional dark wizard sympathizer."
Salvatore nodded gravely. "I understand completely, Mr. Potter. Villa Celestia's security features are, if you'll pardon the expression, magical." He waved his wand, and a schematic of the property appeared. "The wards, as I told you before, are top-of-the-line. They're based on ancient Sicilian magic, enhanced with modern protective charms. They can detect and repel everything from simple intruders to complex magical disguises. You may add more load to the wardstones with any enchantments you feel the most comfortable with, although I do not believe you will find the need to."
He pointed to various spots on the schematic. "There are also strategically placed sensory wardstones throughout the property that will alert you to any breach. The villa itself has several safe rooms, and there's an emergency Portkey system that can evacuate the entire family to a secure location of your choosing in seconds."
Harry nodded, pointedly staring at the image of the estate. Security was something they could not compromise on in the slightest.
"Furthermore," Salvatore added, "the property is unplottable and can be placed under a Fidelius Charm if you desire absolute secrecy."
Daphne, who had been listening intently, turned to Harry and her sister-wives. "What do you all think? It seems perfect for us all and… our future children."
Harry nodded slowly, a soft smile spreading across his face. "It does, doesn't it?"
Fleur and Valerie exchanged looks and nodded, smiling lovingly.
Harry smiled and turned back to Salvatore. "It certainly seems to tick all the boxes. What are the next steps?"
Salvatore beamed, clapping his hands together. "Excellent! I'll have the paperwork drawn up immediately. Given your, ah, unique situation, Mr. Potter, I assume you'd like to handle this through Gringotts?"
"That would be best," Harry agreed. The goblins were known for secrecy and the last thing he wanted was for every random person to know where he lived. "Now, regarding the financial aspects…"
For the next hour, they delved into the finer points of magical property law, discussed the intricacies of international wizarding real estate transactions, and negotiated terms. Together, the foursome made sure to ask pointed questions about the legal and security implications and scrutinized the financial details, finding everything perfectly in order.
As the discussion wound down, Antoine raised his cup of tea in a toast. "To new beginnings and a lively future!"
Everyone raised their cups in response, a sense of excitement and anticipation filling the room. They dispersed soon, with Apolline discussing potential decoration ideas with Daphne, Fleur, and Valerie, with Gabrielle also chiming in, much to everyone's amusement, while Harry and Antoine continued to chat with Salvatore about the rich magical history of Sicily.
As they talked, Harry could not help but recall the discussion he'd had with Dumbledore a few days ago, and how the war would be escalating soon. However, that did not mean they would forget to live their lives or plan for their future. Voldemort would die, and they would live a long, happy life together. That was certain.
XXXXX
It had been about fifteen minutes since Salvatore had left with a promise that he would start working on their transaction the next day. Harry found himself sitting with Antoine as they watched the women continue their discussion excitedly.
"What a man wouldn't give to see the people he loves be this happy," the man remarked out loud, earning a small smile from Harry who nodded in agreement.
"I was wondering something, Antoine," he began slowly. "You hired Slughorn for a branch of your operations in Britain, right?"
"After Fleur told me about it, which incidentally came from you," the man chuckled. "You had some plans with the man?"
"Something like that," Harry replied, nodding. "I want to ask you something about this potions business."
"Sure, what is it?"
"How much would a vial of Basilisk venom be worth?"
Antoine's hand stilled, his cup of tea pressed against his lips as he stared at Harry who was leaning back comfortably in his chair.
"Fleur did tell us about it…" he began slowly, eyeing Harry as he put the cup down. "So you're planning on selling it?"
"I know Basilisk parts are incredibly rare and valuable in potion making. The one I slayed in the Chamber of Secrets is preserved by the magic of that place. If I were to harvest it…"
"It would be worth multiple fortunes," Antoine finished for him.
"Exactly," Harry nodded. "As the one who slayed it, I have the right to claim it. It's been sitting down there uselessly all these years."
Antoine released a deep sigh as he regarded Harry with a small smile. "You do indeed have the right to lay claim to the Basilisk."
"But I want to do it properly," Harry continued. "Get it cleared with Dumbledore, maybe donate a portion of what I might earn to Hogwarts for scholarships or something."
Antoine nodded, thinking about it.
"I could indeed help you out with it," the man replied. "And before you say it, there is no need to pay a fee of any sort. I will look for the buyers and we can get started. Storing the Basilisk parts would be easy enough. We can do it here in Britain once we've harvested everything."
"We'd be involving Slughorn then. All right, I don't have any issues with it."
"One thing we need to ensure is to keep a tight leash on the volume of supply. Too much and we would crash the market," Antoine said firmly. "Merlin, this would be the biggest undertaking in my firm's history."
Harry chuckled as he put his cup down on the table.
"You didn't answer my question though. One vial. How much would it be?"
"Harry," Antoine chuckled. "I can't give you an exact number right now, but you're looking close to half a million at the very least."
"For one vial!?" Harry asked, shocked. All it did was earn him another chuckle as Antoine nodded. "Well… damn."
Chapter 28: AmbushChapter TextHis wives were equally shocked when Harry told them how much the Basilisk would earn them. It was worth multiple fortunes, and quite understandably so.
Basilisks were extinct creatures, and the one in the Chamber was perhaps the last of its kind. It made perfect sense for their parts to be so valuable.
Harry was amused to discover that there were people out there who believed a sentient being like a basilisk could be created by magical means. They said the method to create them had been lost to the annals of history. He had had a nice laugh when Antoine told him about people who believed the process involved a toad and a chicken egg.
The truth was entirely different. A basilisk was a magical species belonging to the reptilian family, and just like the dinosaurs of old, they had also gone extinct a long time ago. Magic could not create life, just as it could not create another basilisk. If one still survived somehow, it had to be purely by nature, not man-made.
They stayed with the Delacours for an hour or so, during which Harry and Antoine talked further about his plan to get the basilisk rendered, and the sheer size of the creature by his explanations shocked the man into a stunned silence.
"Dozens of your generations could live like kings and yet never even break a sweat," Antoine informed him. "You don't even need to get a job or anything."
"Simply sitting on my arse all day just isn't my thing," Harry replied. "I might not need it, but I'll be doing something."
"Well, you have all the time to figure out what you want to do," Antoine shrugged. It was only a minute later when the women arrived, and thus began another of the arduous tasks they needed to be done with – the selection of their clothes for the Yule Ball.
In no time, Harry found himself surrounded by a cascade of colorful fabrics, dress sketches, and elaborate catalogs spread out on the ornate coffee table before him. Fleur, Daphne, and Valerie were seated with him, each of them lost in thought as they browsed through the array of options.
"This one," Fleur said decisively, holding up a page from the catalog that displayed a stunning silver gown adorned with intricate beadwork. "It has the right amount of elegance and sparkle."
Valerie nodded in agreement, her purple eyes shining with excitement. "It would definitely look stunning on you, Fleur, but we need to make sure our outfits don't clash."
Daphne nodded as she leaned back slightly, considering Fleur's choice. "Silver is perfect for you, Fleur. It matches your natural hair color as well. I guess I should go with something darker, to create a contrast. Midnight blue, maybe?"
Fleur, who had been staring at the catalog, glanced up and smirked. "Midnight blue would look amazing on you, Daphne. I can already see it… Hmm… Indeed."
Daphne flashed her a quick, seductive grin before turning back to the catalog, as the elder Delacours exchanged an amused glance. It had not taken them long to get used to the flirtatious tones their conversations took, and very frequently at that.
Apolline lifted a catalog and flipped through it with the ease of someone who had done this a lot of times before. "Daphne, dear, I think that color would indeed suit you. But let us not forget the accessories. You must choose something that would not overpower the dress, but will instead compliment it. You too, Fleur."
"Of course, Maman," Fleur replied with a chuckle.
Antoine took one look at Harry who had been quietly watching the three young women go about it and chimed in with a grin, "And what of Harry? He will need to match all three of you, right? I don't think that'd be an easy task."
The look Harry gave his father-in-law was one of utter betrayal as he saw all three of his girls turn to him with matching predatory gleams in their eyes. He sweat-dropped slightly as he said, "I don't have much idea about all this stuff, but I'll take all the suggestions I can get. What do you think, err… Apolline?"
The older woman smirked at him, knowing how he had intelligently chosen the safest option present, and she eyed him with a critical yet fond eye. "Well, you have a very strong presence, Harry. And you will be representing your wizarding houses as well. I believe your outfit should reflect that. Maybe… something in the shade of an emerald green? It would go with your eyes and won't clash with either Fleur's silver, Daphne's midnight blue, or whatever Valerie chooses."
Valerie nodded with a smile. "I think green is perfect for Harry… As for me, well, I'm thinking a soft rose color. It's delicate but warm, and it should tie everything together."
Apolline nodded approvingly as she gazed at the sheet Valerie handed over to her. "I can see that. Mm-hmm, this seems lovely, Valerie. A soft rose does seem to add a gentle touch to the overall palette."
Antoine Delacour chuckled as Harry let out a relieved breath and together, they watched the three young women go about their animated discussion. Sensing the decisions were nearing completion, the man leaned over to Harry with a wink. "You have chosen three brilliant young women, Harry. No matter what it might be, they all seem to know what they're doing."
Harry smiled, feeling a surge of affection for his girls, and nodded. "I'm a lucky man indeed."
It took them roughly half an hour to finally be done with all the specifics, and Apolline sent their specifications to the designer in Paris who would be working on their attire. It had been a few hours since their arrival in the carriage and by the time their dinner was done, it was already approaching curfew.
With a nod, Harry stood with his wives, offering Antoine a familial hug. Exchanging another with Apolline, they bid their farewell and left the carriage.
Since their union, Fleur had started to live with them in the castle, and quite understandably, Madame Maxime had asked Fleur about it. The woman had been less than pleased when she had been told about them but it wasn't as if there was anything she could do about it.
Antoine and Apolline had explained it to the headmistress of Beauxbatons and when she realized how Fleur had bonded to Harry and the two girls, she had been shocked, but it made her understand them much better. She had agreed to Fleur's stay in the castle with her partners and that had been the end of it.
As they walked, Harry did not miss how all three of his girls kept sharing meaningful looks with each other. There was something teasing about it and he found himself getting curious about what they were planning.
"You three mind letting me into this little secret plan of yours?" He asked, amused. "You're even keeping the mind link shut."
"Impatient much?" Valerie asked teasingly.
"You'll know very soon anyway," Daphne added with a chuckle.
As he glanced at her, Fleur merely smirked.
Shrugging, he turned around and stared ahead as they entered Hogwarts. The corridors were expectedly deserted with only a few students out and about, and even they were rushing back to their respective common rooms. They crossed the Entrance Hall and reached the Grand Staircase, ascending the moving stairs. Stepping off once they reached the seventh floor, they walked through the winding corridors and made their way to their private room.
Once they reached the giant stretch of wall, Daphne stepped forward and paced back and forth. A large door materialized out of nowhere and she pushed it open with a graceful flourish. They all walked in together and Harry's brows furrowed slightly as he saw the room Daphne had asked for. Instead of their bedroom, the room had been transformed into a cozy open space with bright walls and floating lamplights that were reflected off the polished floor. Soft melody was playing – strains of waltz drifting through the air.
In no time, Harry was left standing on his own as his three girls stepped forward and turned to regard him. He raised an expectant eyebrow and saw them grin.
"We figured we could get some practice in before the Yule Ball," Daphne began, her tone teasing but Harry could detect the sense of seriousness underneath. "You may be the most desirable wizard in all of Britain, but we can't have you stumbling over your feet in front of everyone."
"Especially not when you've got three excellent dancers willing to help," Valerie added, her purple orbs sparkling as she moved to the center of the room.
"You three already know I won't though," Harry replied, tapping his temple to indicate that they knew everything about him.
"'Arry," Fleur said, earning his attention. She tilted her head, pursing her lips in that irresistible way, and in no time, Daphne and Valerie were mimicking her to the tee. Harry could not have refused even if he tried.
Amused, he gazed at them as he rolled his shoulders, relaxing. "All right, I can see the sense in that. I'm all yours then. Who's first?"
Their expressions morphed into looks of delight in an instant as Fleur stepped forward without hesitation, a confident smile playing on her lips. "I'll go first," she said, taking Harry's hand and leading him onto the floor. "Let's see what you've got, 'Arry."
Daphne and Valerie lowered themselves into armchairs that appeared side by side, leaning back comfortably as they regarded the couple.
The music swelled, and Fleur began to move, guiding Harry through the steps of the waltz. Fleur's movements were smooth and elegant, her body seeming to glide effortlessly across the floor. Harry matched her step for step, his confidence evident in the way he led her as much as she led him. Fleur's eyes sparkled with approval as she realized that Harry wasn't just keeping up—he was enjoying the dance, teasing her back with every turn.
"You're full of surprises, 'Arry," Fleur said, her voice low and seductive as they moved in perfect sync.
Harry smirked, his tone playful. "I like to keep things interesting."
Fleur's laugh was soft and melodious as he spun her around in a quick turn, their movements fluid and graceful. When the dance ended, she stepped back with a satisfied nod. "You'll do just fine," she said warmly with a loving smile. Harry pulled her close and their lips met in a soft kiss as Fleur's hands rested on his shoulders, her head tilted up as Harry held her by her sides, caressing gently.
Daphne was next, and she didn't waste any time. "My turn," she announced just as they pulled back from the kiss and walked over, taking Harry's hand and pulling him back onto the dance floor as Fleur took the vacant chair beside Valerie.
If Fleur's style had been all about grace, Daphne's was about precision. Every movement she made was calculated, her steps sharp and controlled.
Harry met her gaze with a steady confidence, easily matching her pace. There was a silent challenge in Daphne's eyes that gazed at him teasingly, and Harry rose to meet it, his steps deliberate and strong. They moved together with a certain intensity, the dance becoming a silent conversation of give and take, push and pull.
"Someone else feeling the atmosphere getting a bit too hot?" Valerie asked, fanning herself with her hand as she gazed at the display being put forward by the dancing couple.
"Mm-hmm," Fleur replied, her lips curling as she saw how their hands were exploring each other, ensuring it was in no way untoward or indecent and yet conveying their mutual desires. Harry's hands held Daphne by her hips, his fingertips gently stroking the swell of her perky rear as he held her close, while Daphne kept her arms wrapped around his neck, playing with the tufts of his hair behind his head as she kept herself pressed against him, sensuously rubbing her delectable curves against his chest and feeling his excitement against her lower belly. Their faces were mere inches apart as they breathed in the same air, hot against their skin, with their eyes locked together.
"Not bad, Mr. Potter," Daphne said as the music slowed, her voice carrying a hint of approval and desire. "But don't get too cocky."
Harry grinned, his eyes twinkling. "Wouldn't dream of it, Mrs. Potter."
As they kissed, their hands became more animated. Harry reached over and fully palmed Daphne's curvy rear, sinking his fingers into her soft flesh as he pulled her firmly over his manhood. The blonde pressed herself against him, moving sexily as she rubbed her front against his. Their tongues met in a searing kiss as they clutched at each other as if trying to fuse their bodies together.
Minutes passed as they pulled away, their lips puffy and swollen, and bright grins etched on their faces.
Valerie clapped her hands, stepping forward with a wide grin, as Daphne walked back to join Fleur.
"Alright, my turn!" she said, her excitement palpable. She took Harry's hand as the music changed, pulling him into a lively dance. Valerie's style was a mix of Fleur's grace and Daphne's precision, but with a lightness that made it feel like they were floating on air.
Harry found himself laughing as they moved together, Valerie's infectious energy lifting his spirits even higher. Her steps were quick and playful, and Harry had to stay sharp to keep up with her pace. Unlike the other two, there was no tension here, only pure enjoyment.
"You're a natural, Harry," Valerie said, her voice warm as they spun around the room.
"Just trying to keep up," Harry replied with a grin, twirling her around in a smooth turn.
As the final notes of the waltz faded, Valerie released his hand, stepping back with a satisfied nod. "You're more than ready," she said, giving him a playful wink.
"Come here already," Harry chuckled, and the brunette grinned as she jumped at him, wrapping her legs around his waist as she clutched onto him. Harry's hands grabbed her behind, keeping her hoisted up as their lips met in an enthusiastic kiss.
Valerie threaded her hands through his hair, scratching and pulling gently as they kissed, their tongues rolling around, and in no time, she was rolling her hips over his pelvis, rubbing herself against him.
Daphne and Fleur merely exchanged a heated look as they shot to their feet and approached the couple while the room morphed around them, transforming into their bedroom. They took their places on either side of Harry and wrapped their arms around him, peppering both sides of his neck with wet, open-mouthed kisses.
Harry's grip on Valerie's rear tightened and he pulled her firmly against his erection, forcing her to pull away from the kiss and moan out loud. Breathless, she gazed at Harry with half-lidded eyes before eyeing Daphne and Fleur, and Harry allowed her to get off him. Together, the three lovely women gazed at him with predatory eyes and pushed him onto the bed that had materialized behind him.
"We practiced the dance for the public," Daphne said as they climbed on the bed.
"Now it's time to practice what comes after that," Valerie nodded.
Smirking, Fleur joined them and Harry gazed at the three alluring witches crawling toward him on their hands and knees, their faces set in matching predatory grins.
"I can see the sense in that as well," Harry smirked. "I'm all yours then."
"That you are," Fleur whispered as they crawled over him and pressed themselves against him on all sides. The veela leaned over, her blonde hair pushed over her shoulder, and with all their hearts beating fast, smashed her lips against his.
XXXXX
It was over an hour later when Valerie let out a loud wail as she came around her husband's member, only to be immediately shut up by Fleur who slammed her lips against hers. Meanwhile, Harry breathed heavily as he shot his load for the third time that night, only for Daphne to mimic Fleur, slamming her lips against his in a heated kiss.
Their sweaty and naked bodies were draped over each other, beyond fucked and satisfied, as they lay in bed, breathing heavily.
Harry caressed Daphne and Fleur's naked rears as Valerie lay atop him, rubbing circles on his chest. Amused, he glanced at the three of them, his lips curled. "So, who am I going to the Yule Ball with?"
Fleur, Daphne, and Valerie exchanged knowing glances, amused. Fleur was the first to speak, her tone teasing. "That, 'Arry, is for us to know and for you to find out."
Nodding against his neck, Daphne gave him a sly smile. "You'll just have to wait and see."
Valerie chuckled as she gazed at him, her eyes bright with mischief. "But trust us, it'll be worth it."
Harry sighed, shaking his head in mock exasperation. "You three are going to keep me on my toes until the end, aren't you?"
"Would you have it any other way?" Daphne asked, her voice soft and seductive.
Harry didn't even need to think as he smiled, pulling them closer. "No… No, I wouldn't."
XXXXX
The moon hung low over Thornberry Hollow, its pale light barely penetrating the thick fog that had settled over the sleepy wizarding village. The cobblestone streets, usually bustling with the chatter of witches and wizards, lay eerily silent. The neighborhood was one of the hundreds of small wizarding settlements scattered across the island of Wizarding Britain, quaint and lively.
However, the chill of winter in Scotland had the village bathed in snow, and the locals turned their lamps off earlier than usual. It was into this unsettling quiet that five distinct cracks of apparition split the air.
Auror Captain Thaddeus Blackthorn materialized in the village square, his keen eyes already scanning the surroundings. He was a tall, broad-shouldered man with salt-and-pepper hair and a neatly trimmed beard, and as an auror for close to a decade, the man exuded an air of quiet authority. He raised a hand, signaling to his team to remain vigilant.
"Wands out," he murmured, his own blackthorn wand already in his grip. "Something's not right here."
To his left, Auror Imogen Fawley nodded grimly. She was a lithe woman in her early thirties with sharp features and piercing blue eyes. Living up to her family name, the woman was known for her exceptional dueling skills.
"No signs of distress, sir. No magical residue either."
"Spread out," Blackthorn ordered. "Fawley, with me. Holloway, take point. Crane and Digby, secure the perimeter."
Auror Ernie Holloway, a young wizard barely out of training with a mop of unruly red hair, nodded and moved cautiously down the main street, his wand held firmly in his grasp. Despite his inexperience, his movements were fluid and precise. He had earned top marks in stealth and tracking during his auror training, after all.
Meanwhile, the stocky figure of Auror Gideon Crane disappeared into the shadows between buildings as his partner Auror Philipp Digby – a tall, dark-skinned wizard with close-cropped hair – covered his flank.
As Blackthorn and Fawley made their way toward the village center, an unsettling feeling grew in the pit of the Captain's stomach. The fog seemed to thicken with each step, muffling their footsteps and limiting visibility to mere feet in front of them.
"Captain," Fawley whispered, her wand tip glowing faintly with a non-verbal Lumos. "The buildings... they're empty."
Blackthorn peered through a nearby window. Indeed, the shop appeared hastily abandoned, chairs overturned, and items strewn about. A silent Homenum Revelio told him there was no sign of life in the buildings on either side of him.
"It's as if everyone just vanished," he muttered.
Suddenly, Holloway's voice crackled through their communication charm. "Sir, I've found some"
The man's words cut off abruptly, replaced by the unmistakable sound of spellfire.
"Holloway!" Blackthorn barked. "Report! What's your position?"
There was no reply. The trail went silent. Wide-eyed, Blackthorn exchanged a look with Fawley.
"Crane, Digby, converge on Holloway's last known location," Blackthorn ordered, already moving with the only female auror at his heels. "Stay alert, this could be"
A jet of purple light burst from the fog, missing Fawley's head by inches.
"Ambush!" she cried out, dropping into a defensive stance.
The air was suddenly alive with curses and hexes. Dark figures emerged from the mist, their faces hidden behind bone-white masks.
"Death Eaters," Blackthorn growled, deflecting a sickly yellow bolt which he easily recognized as the bone-breaker with a shield that appeared with a mere flick of his wand. "Fawley, call for backup!"
Before the woman could activate her emergency Portkey, a gravelly voice called out, "Accio Portkeys!"
Five small objects zoomed out of the Aurors' robes, disappearing into the fog.
"Shit," she cursed, glaring into the fog that reduced their visibility significantly. It had worsened within seconds, and she could barely make out the Captain, let alone their attackers. Suddenly, the fog seemed to let up a bit and they stared ahead in the direction where the voice had come from.
"Now, now," the voice continued, its owner stepping into view. Both Blackthorn and Fawley breathed in sharply as they recognized Antonin Dolohov's scarred face that was twisted into a cruel smile. "We can't have you leaving the party so soon."
In no time, Blackthorn and Fawley found themselves back-to-back, surrounded by advancing Death Eaters. The Captain recognized the hulking forms of the Lestrange brothers, the cruel sneers of the Carrow twins, and the calculating gaze of Augustus Rookwood.
"So this is where they've been hiding," Fawley muttered under her breath.
Suddenly, Dolohov thrust his wand in their direction, and thick ropes shot toward the Aurors.
Blackthorn whipped his wand, conjuring a powerful, shimmering shield that expanded around them. The ropes struck the shield and sparked off, falling to the floor, and Dolohov was quick on the uptake, transfiguring the rope into a large armadillo that easily made a hole in the ground and emerged inside the shield.
Blackthorn's jerked as the armadillo lunged toward him and his eyes widened when the creature transformed into a large boa constrictor mid-lunge. He was about to bring his shield down to deal with the creature when it suddenly combusted in the air, burning into ashes as Fawley thrust her wand forward.
"Good save," he nodded, grunting when a powerful barrage of spells collided with his shield. All the Death Eaters joined the assault, and spells ranging from bone-breakers to concussion hexes were flung forth. They were put on the defensive, and Fawley was forced to assist as she reinforced the shield, supplying her magic to sustain it under the relentless barrage.
The ambush had been prepared perfectly, and although weakened from their long stay in Azkaban, the inner circle Death Eaters were still a force to be reckoned with. They moved in perfect harmony, their attack was persistent and unforgiving, and although the two aurors were maintaining their defense admirably, anyone could tell that they were on the verge of crumbling.
Alas, the Death Eaters did not share this opinion. They saw the aurors resisting and keeping them at bay, and all they took away from this was an observation – that they were not strong enough yet. They were self-critical, and they were discontent. Nothing would please them until they took care of their enemies quickly and emphatically.
"Where the hell is everyone else!?" Fawley cried out with gritted teeth.
"No clue," Blackthorn grunted. "Already down, maybe?"
"Shit," she cursed once again. "We need reinforcements, and soon."
Blackthorn nodded. "The Patronus…"
His shield crumbled and Fawley grunted under the tremendous strain as all six Death Eaters battered her shield with spells that kept getting darker and more dangerous by the second.
"Expecto Pat"
Blackthorn was cut off and a bloodcurdling scream tore its way out of him as a powerful Cruciatus Curse struck him straight in the abdomen.
"Thaddeus!" Fawley cried out as the auror fell over limply, shaking and jerking violently as Rudolphus kept his wand trained on him with a cruel sneer on his lips. His eyes were twisted into a hateful glare as he stepped closer, and there was a sinister pleasure in those malevolent orbs as they remained trained on the struggling man.
Fawley glared at the man but failed to do anything as she kept reinforcing the shield, keeping it upright even under a five-on-one assault. However, a powerful blasting curse shot forth, shattering the shield into a million fragments, and the woman was flung backward where she collided painfully with a building. Her breath was knocked out of her as she fell in a heap, and she knew she was bleeding internally. Her eyes opened blearily as she gazed at the ground, watching how the snow under her was painted red in what could only be her blood.
Her eyes descended as she twitched, and the sight of a wooden stake embedded in her abdomen would have chilled her if she had not been a seasoned auror. As such, she could only breathe raggedly as she gazed upward in the direction where she heard the approaching footsteps.
"Now, can't let you die on us," Rookwood's soft voice felt revolting, and Fawley felt her insides getting hotter. The stake shot out, banished to the side, as the man worked on her, patching her up nicely. Her abdomen sealed up, the blood flow stemming properly, as Rookwood leaned over and pulled her wand from her weak grasp. Utterly spent, she could not even muster a sound of protest as the man pocketed her wand, and she saw he already held the wand of her Captain.
Meanwhile, Blackthorn shivered as the aftereffects of the Cruciatus Curse kicked in, sending searing pain lancing through every fiber of his being. His nerves felt as if they had been lit up, and it felt like someone was shooting pinpricks all over his skin.
As he lay on his back, gasping for air with immeasurable pain shooting through his body, a boot pressed down on his chest, forcing a painful wheeze out of him. His bleary eyes stared up and he found none other than Rudolphus Lestrange looming over him, glaring cruelly in sheer hatred. It felt as if the man blamed every free person for the hell he had endured in Azkaban and now held them all responsible.
"Not now, Rudolphus," Dolohov said as he approached, placing a hand on the man's shoulder and pulling him back. With a final glare, Lestrange pushed his boot deeper into Blackthorn's abdomen and stepped off, forcing the shaking man to cough violently. It did nothing to alleviate his pain, quite the opposite.
Shaking his head, Dolohov stepped closer as he gazed at the downed Auror Captain, his eyes glinting with malice. "The mighty Aurors," he sneered. "Still not so impressive."
With a wave of his wand, Dolohov bound both Blackthorn and Fawley and unceremoniously dumped them on the snow-covered ground. The woman gazed at her Captain with concern shining in her eyes, although her lips were set in a thin line. She had recovered as much as she could after the impromptu treatment, although she did not seem to be in any condition to cast another destructive spell, let alone fight.
The other Death Eaters slowly emerged from the mist, dragging the unconscious forms of Holloway, Crane, and Digby.
"You think you'll get away with this?" Fawley asked, glaring up at Dolohov as her remaining three companions were dropped beside them.
All Dolohov did was give her an amused stare as he glanced up.
"Excellent work, Antonin," a new voice came, sounding much smoother and cultured. Fawley glanced up and saw the Death Eaters part as a figure approached with a confident and unhurried stride.
Her eyes widened in shock as she gazed at none other than Barty Crouch Jr. who stepped into view, looking nothing like the madman reported to have died in Azkaban. His hair was neatly combed and his robes were immaculate as he got closer, and only the manic gleam in his eyes and the occasional flick of his tongue betrayed his true nature.
"Your skills are a bit dulled, but that is to be expected. I was the same, after all. Don't worry though. A few weeks and you'll all be just fine," Crouch remarked as he came to a stop. His eyes fell on a glaring Imogen Fawley and he smirked cruelly before gazing at her superior. "Captain Blackthorn," Crouch said, crouching down beside the shivering and bound Auror. "I do apologize for the deception, but we couldn't have you refusing our invitation, could we?"
Despite the tremendous pain coursing through him, Blackthorn glared defiantly. "Whatever you're planning, Crouch, you won't succeed. The Ministry-"
"The Ministry," Crouch interrupted, his voice a menacing whisper, "will soon be welcoming five of its finest Aurors back from a successful mission." His lips curled into a cruel smile. "Of course, they may seem a bit... changed."
Realization dawned on both Blackthorn and Fawley's face and their eyes widened.
An amused Crouch stood back up, surveying his prisoners with satisfaction. "You and your colleagues will be our guests for quite some time, Captain, while my friends here enjoy themselves a bit." Turning to the assembled Death Eaters, he said, "Let's get a move on, my friends. Our job is done here."
The last thing Blackthorn heard before a Stunning Spell took him was Crouch's chilling words.
"The Dark Lord's lives on, and he will triumph. This time, no one will see us coming."