Cha[etr 39
Hogwarts was not strange to weird groups and gatherings; even so, in its vast history, few were as weird as the one walking through the corridors on the seventh floor. The headmaster, dressed in his eccentric purple robes with moving stars and planets, and his long gray hair and beard, was the first of the living ones, followed by Harry Potter, the young werewolf with messy raven hair, someone so unusual that even the moon's curse worked differently on him. Behind the young wolf was Katie Bell, another werewolf who was undergoing changes because of Harry. The last living one was Professor Minerva McGonagall, her mouth shaped into a thin line so thin that Harry was sure she had used transfiguration on herself. Behind them, a procession of ghosts followed, floating, walking, crawling. And there was Mrs. Norris, a cat. They followed behind two other ghosts, a man and a woman, almost as old as the castle itself. Harry watched, having never noticed how disturbing the Bloody Baron's visage really was, with his deep wounds and broken armor. Yet, the scariest thing was the numerous chains piercing through his 'flesh,' making deeper metallic sounds as he floated and disappeared into the air behind him, but always strained and pulling back. Harry knew that ghosts were trapped in the living world because of things they couldn't let go or had to solve before completely passing, but it was mesmerizing to see one that so literally dragging the weight of his sins behind him.
"You know…" The ghost's voice echoed through the corridor, taking Harry out of his revelry. "His exterior had not always reflected the monster he was inside." The Baron's voice carried a deep sadness. "When he came to me, he was polite, and yet, he carried an aura of strength and command around him, he was incredibly intelligent and cunning, the likes of this school see only once each century, don't you agree, headmaster?" The ghost continued, and Harry noticed as the old wizard looked down with sadness and disappointment on his face. "I truly believed he was the perfect embodiment of everything my father had wished for the students of his house to be." The Bloody Baron looked at the Grey Lady, who kept looking forward, not giving him even a glance. "Oh, how foolish I was. And to drag my beloved with me…"
"What happened?" Harry asked. The Grey Lady suddenly stopped and turned to look at him. Her eyes were cold, but Harry could see the undertones of boiling anger in them, just like Daphne's when she used her ice queen persona.
"Before we answer, tell if it is true." The Lady asked. "Tell me you are hunting him, tell me you are really destroying those profane things."
Harry looked directly at her, no fear, no anger. The wolf's eyes met hers, and he said, "Yes. He is an abomination against magic, and I am its hunter." Harry's voice echoed through the corridor, and he could hear both Dumbledore and Minerva taking deep breaths at his proclamation. The Grey Lady held his gaze, and after a few, she nodded.
"Tom Riddle tricked us," She said, moving towards the tapestry on the walls. "He promised he could free us. That he could fix the mistakes of his family," She looked at the Bloody Baron, who lowered his head in guilt. "And restore the glory of mine." The ghost looked back at Harry. "I watched you, Harry Potter, for a long time. You were so like him, I was afraid. Your magic, your power, your fury. And yet, I could see that unlike him, you protect those you care for. Unlike Riddle, you are capable of great courage. And love." The Grey Lady said with sorrow, looking back at the other ghost.
A door appeared in the wall opposite the tapestry. The Grey Lady gestured at it. "We are here, please, hunter, help me destroy my mother's legacy…"
.oOo.
The pieces of silvery metal fell to the ground with a muffled clank, and Katie could finally breathe again. The young she-wolf really hoped this was the last one of those terrible things; she couldn't even imagine how Harry was able to fight and destroy them. Katie felt the awful soul piece fighting against her boyfriend, clawing at hers and the others' minds, trying to twist, to escape, before Harry struck with the sword. The sword that was now his; Katie could see the magic that connected the artifact with the young werewolf. And she had to admit he looked very hot with the sword in his hands and with his fierce gaze over the destroyed Horcrux, like some kind of warrior from the steamy books Angelina kept in her room. Katie felt her heart soaring, and she couldn't resist, quickly moving forward and pulling Harry into a strong embrace, letting his scent flood her senses, being sure he was here and he was okay.
"I'm here…" He whispered in her ear. "I love you…" Harry said.
"It is done…" The Grey Lady said, looking sadly at the remains of her mother's diadem. Katie could already see the magic that kept the woman's spirit tied to the world dissipating. "It was not how I wished it would have been, but in the end, it was what had to be done."
"You… are leaving?" Katie asked. "Now I have the choice that had been denied to me for millennia, young hunter," The ghost turned her gaze towards the Bloody Baron. Katie noticed the magic binding him to the mortal world still strong.
"I can choose to stay, and see how things develop, even if my part in this is done, or I can choose to let it go." Katie saw as the Grey Lady floated to the other ghost, and softly touched his mangled visage. "I am tired, my love, too tired." The Grey Lady said. "And what happened severed our bond beyond repair…" "I understand, Helena, my love." The Baron looked back at her. "However," Helena continued. "If indeed there is something left of myself on the other side, I will be waiting…" She said, as her image started to dissipate. "Maybe then, we can finally be free…" She turned around to look at Harry and Katie. "Farewell, and may magic be at your side through the trying times ahead, hunters." Her voice echoed as the Grey Lady of Hogwarts was finally gone.
"Such a shame…" Dumbledore said after a couple of minutes with a long breath. "Another priceless piece of our history had to be destroyed," The headmaster flickered his wand, gathering the pieces of the diadem and floating them in front of the people in the room. "All because of one man's delusions of grandeur. Thank you, Harry," He said, looking at the young werewolf. "For being stronger than me and doing what I couldn't."
"How many with this one?" Harry asked.
"Six…" Dumbledore answered, and a shiver went down Katie's spine. To defile one's soul this much was something unthinkable to her.
"Do you think there is more?" Harry asked, and Katie could hear the rage in his voice. Dumbledore was pensive for a moment.
"I don't think so. Voldemort's soul would already be too fractured at this point. He must be already losing not only the control over his magic but also his mind."
"We are close, then…" Harry whispered.
"Indeed. But we must not get complacent or underestimate the Dark Lord. Some beasts are the most dangerous when they are cornered."
.oOo.
What happened in the Great Hall was, of course, the talk of the school over the next few days, and Parvati was loving it. This was exactly the kind of thing she could use to help Harry. The young werewolf girl knew he was uncomfortable with his fame, and yet, things kept happening around him that only made him more of a grand character: Quirrell, the Heir of Slytherin, Sirius Black, and the Dementors, and the tournament. After talking with him during their training (even if for her, those were more for acceptance) sessions, Parvati had understood that they were not fighting an outright war. No, this was a war of ideological attrition just as much as physical battles. The conflicts happening outside the school were showing that.
"I know Harry doesn't like his fame," Parvati had said to Daphne and Hermione one day. "But I think we can use it."
"Well, we are already trying to leverage it politically," Daphne said. "With some good results, especially with Bones in charge."
"Nice, but I mean it here, in school, and with that, the rest of the people around the country."
Hermione and Daphne looked at her with questioning eyes.
"Think, most of the non-Muggle-born in this castle grew up with the Harry Potter books. Even if he is not the character portrayed in those silly books, he still is part of the imaginary of wizardry Britain. That plus Harry's defense classes can gain a lot of support from the students here and undermine the Death Eater recruiting."
"Hmm, that can work." Daphne nodded.
"But, in the end, those are just students…" Hermione noticed.
"Yes, but most important families have children here, some of them moving into adulthood. Some, like Susan and Neville, are going to be the head of their house and some of the more important people in our world. That will bleed into their families…"
It had started with the three of them, wearing lightning bolts somewhere visible, be it an earring, placed over their bags, or a pin on their robes, then Padma, Luna, Ginny, and Blaise joined. Soon, half the school was sporting a lightning bolt, much to Harry's dismay. And yet, he embraced his role. During his training sessions, in the corridors, standing against the purists.
Parvati was amazed. Finally, she understood that Harry was not talking only about this war, or Voldemort and the Death Eaters. No, he was talking about unity, about respecting the fact that even if everyone was different, no one was above anyone. He talked about the injustices engraved in the way things were done, and that they were the change the world needed.
Of course, not everyone agreed, but no one could deny he was being heard, no one could deny his magnetism and his passion.
Parvati knew, however, that he just wanted to see his loved ones thrive and be happy.
No matter the cost.
.oOo.
Zacharias Smith's school life had become a nightmare. Not for the first time, he was regretting his decision to listen to his uncle and associate himself with the other blood purists and traditionalist movements. He thought it would bring connections and advantages for him, access to contacts with high society, bringing his family name back to what it was a century ago.
And women…
To be honest, he was not even that firm of a believer in blood purity, and the only important thing of tradition for him was money and the whole of wizards as leaders. But now, there was no escape anymore. He had bitten way more than he could chew; the Dark Lord and his inner circle knew of his existence. His uncle had talked about him in hopes of climbing to a higher position inside the Dark Lord's ranks. Zacharias only cared about himself, but now, he was part of a much bigger game.
And most of the school now hated him. Especially his own house.
"Bloody Bones! Bloody Potter!" He thought, not for the first time.
No matter, he sighed; they would all suffer when the Dark Lord wins…
He hoped…
He had come to the village to get a new carving kit. Somehow Theodore Nott noticed that he was good at runes and demanded his help with something. If it were up to him, Zacharias would not help the pompous git; it would only lower his stance even more within the school. And Potter had done something to him, something that messed with Nott's magic.
But he couldn't deny, or word would be sent to the Dark Lord.
Damn! He wanted to scream.
Zacharias was walking back to the school when he saw Ronald Weasley walking by with a hooded Auror beside him. The village now had a permanent contingent of Aurors stationed on it, ever since the attack a couple of weeks back. They said Potter had cut Lord Parkinson's arm off, and just like Nott, had messed up his magic.
Zacharias shivered. What if Potter did the same to him if he found out he was helping the Dark Lord?
"Bloody hell!" The wizard finally let out as he walked in the snow.
.oOo.
Hermione entered the Great Hall holding hands with Harry and with a silly smile on her face. How she loved how Harry would take control of her and reduce the smart, righteous young woman into a puddle of giggles and post-orgasmic bliss with his commanding actions just to be back to being the more respectful and caring boyfriend after.
And he had done just that.
Harry was shocked to see her wearing a very bright lightning bolt necklace, like a common fangirl, and had dragged her into a broom closet. How he had chastised her for giving in to such silly things while using her mouth, making her moan and drown around his cock. She came touching herself when he called her his silly good girl before coming in her mouth.
And, to her surprise (or maybe not, now that she thought about it), he was not done. Harry had easily lifted her, and pushing her damp panties aside, plundered his cock deep inside her, using Hermione to release his frustrations, just like she loved, and he knew it.
Now, Daphne and Katie were giving her knowing looks as she sat down with him to dinner, and Parvati twitched her nose and gave her what could only be described as an envious gaze.
"So, I was thinking," Harry said as he placed food on his plate. "Maybe I should move into more dangerous spells for the higher years in the Defense Association, things they would not be taught in the normal class curriculum."
"Like the Auror-level spells you are learning?" Hermione asked, back into her normal analytical self. "That can be good. But I reckon you would need permission from the headmaster to teach some of those; they can be lethal."
"Yes, I thought so. I will talk to him tonight." Harry answered.
"Are you worried something will happen here in the school?" Daphne asked.
Harry shrugged.
"It would not be beneath them to attack children if their efforts continue to be undermined by the ministry."
"Hum, Smith and Nott are not here again," Susan said. "Haven't seen Smith all day now that I think about it."
"We need to keep an eye on him." Katie agreed.
Hermione nodded, looking around the hall at the people they were not so subtly keeping tabs on, when she saw a very tense Pansy entering. The Slytherin girl walked towards them, sitting down beside Parvati.
"Are you ok, Pansy?" Katie asked. Hermione had to admire the wolf girl, she was way more empathetic and forgiving than herself.
Pansy looked around, apprehensive, before taking a deep breath.
"Have you guys seen Ron?" She asked.
Harry stopped eating and finally looked at the girl.
"Not since the morning classes." Hermione said, worried.
"Bloody… I told him not to go alone…" Pansy whispered.
"Not to go where?" Harry asked with a hard tone, making Pansy jump in surprise.
"To hogshead. Ron said he needed supplies, but I think he actually wanted to buy me something for Christmas…" Her voice was shaking now. "I told him not to worry, but I believe he was negotiating something with the twins…"
"Damn!" Harry growled.
"Smith and Nott are not here as well…" Katie said. Harry nodded and made to get up, his food forgotten when a screech echoed through the great hall.
Hermione watched as a peregrine falcon made purely of light and magic flew through the wall and, after circling around the hall once, landed in front of Harry.
"'Arry," The patronus said in Fleur's urgent voice. "The alley is being attacked!"
chapter 40
AN: Harry's stupidity will be addressed, don't worry!
thanks to HypnoticNurse for the help!
Fleur Delacour and Angelina Johnson exited Gringotts Wizarding Bank, the afternoon sun casting long shadows over Diagon Alley. They had spent the entire day at work, the hours stretching endlessly as they attended to the needs of the bank's patrons.
The day had been particularly busy, with a surge of customers clamoring for the services of the goblins. Fleur had been inundated with requests for assistance, her expertise as a bilingual witch in high demand as she helped clients navigate the intricacies of Gringotts' accounts and investments.
Angelina, too, had been kept busy, her role as a financial advisor requiring her to provide counsel to clients seeking to manage their wizarding wealth. The constant stream of inquiries and transactions had left her mentally drained, her mind buzzing with numbers and calculations.
As they stepped onto the cobblestone street, their conversation ebbed into the background, overshadowed by the distant clamor echoing from the direction of the Daily Prophet building. Despite their exhaustion, their curiosity was piqued by the sight of smoke billowing in the distance.
Fleur couldn't help but feel a pang of weariness as they made their way toward the source of the commotion. The long day at work had taken its toll on her, and she yearned for nothing more than a moment of respite, whishing to lay her head on Harry's lap, so he could run his carrying hands over her hair whispering sweet nothings. Angelina shared her fatigue, her steps slow and deliberate as they approached the scene of the devastation.
As they reached the edge of the crowd gathered at a safe distance from the wreckage, Fleur and Angelina exchanged a weary glance, the events of the previous days weighing heavily upon them.
The smoke hung heavy in the air, casting a pall over the bustling street and drawing the attention of every witch and wizard in the vicinity. Fleur and Angelina pushed their way through the crowd, their hearts pounding with a mix of apprehension and determination.
As they drew closer to the wreckage, the full extent of the devastation became clear. The once proud facade of the Daily Prophet building lay in ruins, flames licking at the charred remains. Aurors and emergency responders worked frantically to contain the fire and tend to the injured, their wands flashing in the fading light of the day.
Fleur's hand went to her mouth in shock, her eyes wide with disbelief. The Daily Prophet, the very heart of the wizarding world's news and information, reduced to rubble before her eyes. Questions swirled in her mind, a sense of foreboding settling in the pit of her stomach.
Angelina gripped Fleur's arm in silent solidarity, her expression grim. The recent uptick in dark activity and attacks on prominent magical institutions had not gone unnoticed by either of them. The rise of dark forces in the wizarding world was a shadow they could no longer ignore.
As they stood amidst the chaos, Fleur and Angelina watched as Amelia Bones, the minister of magic arrived at the scene with a group of Aurors, including Sirius Black. They observed as the Aurors meticulously examined the destroyed building, casting spells and searching for clues amidst the rubble.
Amelia's expression was grave as she surveyed the scene, her eyes narrowed in determination. Sirius's jaw was set in a firm line, his gaze scanning the area for any signs of the culprits.
Fleur and Angelina exchanged a knowing glance, recognizing the gravity of the situation. The attack on the Daily Prophet was not just an isolated incident – it was a sinister warning of darker times ahead in the wizarding world.
"Fuck!" Angelina whispered. "Fuck, fuck fuck fuck…" the tall girl turned around, grabbing Fleur's shoulders. The veela was about to complain of the force her friend was using, but stopped when she saw the fear on Angelina's face. "You have to leave, Fleur!" The young witch said frantically.
Fleur raised a confused eyebrow.
"You must leave, Fleur, you must leave the country! Go back to France, go back to your family. Being who you are, being so close to Harry, if they get you…" Angelina continued, her panic clear in her tone as realization finally came to Fleur.
"Angie…" Fleur said in a soft voice, placing her left hand over Angelina's. "Thank you, I understand you are worried. I am as well. But you know I can't leave. Do you really think I could be happy pretending there was nothing happening here after everything? I don't want to leave. Not without Harry." She looked at the other woman's eyes. "Also, there are friends here worth fighting for." The veela smiled and she felt the grip on her shoulder losing its strength.
"You… you are braver than me…" Angelina said.
"No one would judge you if you choose to leave, Angie. Maybe it really is the best thing to do." Fleur said. "But don't underestimate yourself. You have courage in spades, just as much as me, or Harry. Or do you think we are not terrified as well? But, Harry knows he can't escape, and I love him too much to leave." Angelina looked down, Fleur was not sure if ashamed or thinking.
"Come, let's go home, it is getting too cold…" Fleur couldn't finish as a loud crackling sound echoed through the street, and the light of dozens of spells started flying around them.
.oOo.
Harry's heart was pounding so loudly that he barely heard the girls calling after he got up and ran through the great hall's doors. He was so fast that no one could follow him, and he didn't care.
"Fleur!"
Fleur was all he could think about, the fear grasping his heart and magic like monstrous ice claws. His mind conjured terrible images of what could happen to his lover as he ran blindly through the corridors, letting his instincts guide him. Fear soon became rage, and the young werewolf could feel his magic responding, making his muscles work even faster.
That was how in just a couple of minutes a very warm and sweaty Harry found himself on the seventh floor, in a very familiar corridor.
"The Room of Requirement!" Harry ran back and forth, desperately asking for a way to get to Diagon Alley as fast as he could. The door had barely appeared when he opened it to a room empty of anything, except a fireplace with green flames.
Harry silently thanked Hogwarts before resolutely stepping into the flames.
.oOo
Hermione called, but didn't hear her, running away from the great hall so fast that it would be impossible to catch. But before he ran, she saw the fear in his eyes. The same fear the young witch could see in her friends' eyes around her, and in her own eyes as well. Yet she knew it was not right, it was the ministry all over again. his instincts and rage taking over, making him act without thinking. Harry needed them to help him calm down and think, but he was too fast.
Hermione turned to look at the staff table, only to see the headmaster disappearing inside a pillar of flames.
Then, the great hall exploded in a cacophony of noises: students talking, crying, getting up, while the staff tried to regain control.
Some students were smiling…
Hermione felt angry, scared, and worst of all, useless.
.oOo.
Sirius tried to assess the situation while attempting to shield Amelia from the sounds and lights of spells flashing around him. The former Auror struggled to wrap his mind around this attack. There was a very powerful anti-Apparition and anti-Floo ward, something akin to those that were present during the last war when Voldemort himself was around. And yet, Sirius couldn't find the Dark Lord anywhere.
The targets of the attack, however, were very clear. Any place marked with the letter M by the so-called traditionalists was fair game; some were already catching fire, and Sirius feared for their owners and their families.
The second target was Amelia.
And that was why he was fighting tooth and nail alongside the Ministry and her security detachment. Some time after the first spells, Fleur and a girl Sirius knew were friends with Harry had joined them.
Sirius knew Fleur was very powerful and skilled, but witnessing the girls in action was incredible. He noticed when the Veela sent a Patronus message to Harry, and he did the same to Dumbledore. Remus was somewhere in the alley as well, but Sirius hadn't seen him.
One of the Aurors to his right screamed and fell, sickening yellow smoke emanating from his mouth and nose. "Purifying curse! Shit!" He thought, sending a silent bombardment at one of the attackers.
Then he felt it. The unnatural cold he would never forget.
"Sirius! Sirius!" Amelia called, trying to get his attention. "We need to move!"
"Dementors," he said.
"What?"
"Dementors, they are here…" Sirius looked around. "But why are they not attacking?"
.oOo.
Harry felt like he was fighting something even before he exited the floor. It was like a barrier, trying to stop him. But neither Harry nor Hogwarts would be impeded. Pushing his magic, the young werewolf tore through whatever barrier tried to stop him.
It was painful, like hooks clinging into his flesh, trying to stop him, cutting his flesh. Harry didn't care. He needed to get to the other side. He needed to get to Fleur.
And that was how he stepped out of the floor with a roar, falling to his knees. The sounds of the skirmish reached his sensitive ears, but they seemed blocked. It took him a couple of seconds to realize he was at the empty Leaky Cauldron.
Or almost.
"Impressive," Harry heard a heavily accented voice. The smell of fire whiskey from the pub mixed with the smell of blood and mint from the man. "First you survive the ritual, then you messed Parkinson up, and now you've broken into the Dark Lord's wards…" the man clapped, his accent reminding Harry of Krum, though the man wasn't English.
Harry pointed his wand at the man. He was dressed in Death Eater regalia, but his silver mask was on the table, beside a bottle of whiskey and a half-full glass, leaving the man's face visible. He was not bad looking, with his dark hair and beard, starting to show some silver. He had a pointed nose and very cunning eyes.
The man smiled, an evil smile that made Harry's rage boil. But his instincts told him this man was dangerous.
"Okay, Potter, let's do this, but not inside. This is one of the few places with some half-decent alcohol in this godforsaken island. Also, Tom over there would not like it if we destroyed his livelihood," the wizard laughed, and Harry finally noticed the fearful bartender cowering behind the bar. "Come on, let's move it outside."
Harry was fuming, his mind clouded with rage, but not enough to ignore the trembling man behind the bar. With his wand pointed at the Death Eater, he watched as the man slowly got up and walked towards the open wall that led to the alley.
"My name is Anthony Dolohov, by the way," the Death Eater said. "And I have been waiting to meet you, Harry Potter."
"I don't care," Harry growled before walking out of the pub and into the streets.
.oOo.
Hovering above the alley, the disillusioned Dark Lord Voldemort watched as his "followers" wreaked havoc through the marked stores. It was a force composed of both his true followers and hired wands, along with low-life thugs from the continent. All were but bodies for him to sacrifice in his search for control.
The Dark Lord himself had not joined the attack; all his magic was being used to maintain some of the most powerful wards he could muster. These wards not only prevented people from entering or leaving the area through magical means but also kept the Dementors at bay until the right time for them to descend upon the survivors. His followers in the Ministry would be ready to make it appear as a delayed response to the attack from the authorities, placing the blame for the Dementors on Amelia Bones' administration.
These were the most powerful wards that he, or any other wizard he knew, was capable of, and yet, he felt them being torn apart by someone. Who could that be? Trying to follow the point of rupture, the Dark Lord was surprised to see Dolohov walking out into the streets followed by none other than Harry Potter.
The Death Eater stopped in the middle of the street, assuming a dueling position and saying something to the boy that Voldemort couldn't hear over the sounds of fire and spells. The Dark Lord watched as the people around the two wizards stopped fighting, both the Death Eaters and the Aurors, as well as the civilians, curious about the impending duel.
For a moment, the Dark Lord thought about intervening, but he would not give the boy even more fame than he deserved. Being killed by a mere Death Eater (though Dolohov was much more than that) would be a blow to the resistance's morale.
So, Voldemort decided to watch.
.oOo.
Sirius was panting, sweat dripping from his forehead. Looking around, he saw that Amelia, Fleur, and Angelina were in the same boat. Most of the Aurors with them were down, some even dead, he suspected, but they had taken many Death Eaters with them.
And the cavalry was not arriving. Whoever placed the wards around the fight must be really strong, maybe even Voldemort himself. They needed a way out. Sirius needed to take Amelia and Fleur out of here. But for that, they must find the origin of the wards.
"Siri, my favorite cousin!" Sirius heard a high-pitched voice calling, one he remembered very well. "Oh my. I'm so happy you and Amy are back together!" The woman laughed.
"Bellatrix," Sirius turned towards her. For a moment, he was shocked. Gone was the skeletal, pale figure with falling hair he remembered from Azkaban. She was beautiful again, her toned figure visible under her tight black dress robes, and with a flowing mane of black wavy hair. And there was something even stranger. There was ferocity in her malicious eyes. Fire, power, and rage. He could even swear she had pointed teeth.
And behind her, more beast than man, stood Remus' nightmare, Fenrir Greyback.
Amelia squeezed Sirius' shoulder. He could see the fear in her eyes, but also determination. Just like Sirius, she knew those weren't simple Death Eaters. Those were monsters.
"Don't kill the bird…" Fenrir's voice sounded deep, full of violence. "We can use her to get the whelp."
Bellatrix smiled and nodded, turning towards Fleur and Angelina, while Fenrir walked calmly towards Sirius and Amelia.
.oOo.
Harry watched carefully as Dolohov moved in front of him. The Death Eater's movements were minimal, calculated. Harry sensed the magic around the man, blood and fire, dark and strong.
Dolohov was a fighter, a killer.
The wolf inside Harry raged, urging him to destroy this rival, to kill and protect his pack. But the rational part of him knew not to rush, to observe and learn.
"It was very… strange, what you did to Parkinson…" Dolohov said, and Harry knew he was trying to distract him. "Not only did you cut off his hand, but you disrupted his magic… how?"
Harry sensed the magic gathering on the man's wand before he could see it. With an incredibly fast movement, the silent stunner flew from Dolohov's wand. If it weren't for his heightened senses, Harry wouldn't have been able to sidestep it as he did.
Dolohov smiled. A stunner was just a weak, fast spell to open the fight, to gauge his opponent's wits. Harry growled. He wanted to run after Fleur. But this man was blocking him.
"Good," Dolohov smiled before waving his wand. A quick sequence of multicolored spells shot from his wand this time as he started sidestepping to the right. He was fast, but thanks to the wolf, Harry was faster. The werewolf jumped out of the way from the first two spells and blocked the next ones. Dolohov's smile widened. "Very good!"
Harry raised a quick shield to block the next volley of spells; they were getting stronger. Bone-breakers, blood-boiling curses. Harry blocked and dodged, but he was quickly getting frustrated. The wolf didn't like to be on the back foot; he needed to take the initiative, to get out of the defensive. But this man was not like Parkinson or the students of Hogwarts; Harry knew he couldn't afford to let himself be hit to start attacking.
Harry took a deep breath. With a strong push of his magic, the runes in his chest started burning, devouring the magic around him. His eyes glowed with a feral gleam as he saw and smelled Dolohov commanding the magic flow for a next barrage of spells. And as soon as the Death Eater started silently casting, Harry took the "jump".
For the werewolf, it was like a boost of magic pushing him while he violently tore through space. But for anyone watching, he simply blinked out of existence only to appear right beside Dolohov, phasing through his bone crusher completely.
To Dolohov's credit, his reflexes acted quickly, and he jumped back, sending a wide-cutting curse against Harry that cut through his chest and left arm. Simultaneously, Harry expanded his own magic, aiming at the place below where the Death Eater would land. With a push of his will, a fist made of the street's stones launched against Dolohov's side. Harry heard the sound of breaking bones as the rock hit the man, and Dolohov lost his breath, but Harry didn't notice the blood on his own clothes. Harry followed with his own sequence of spells, growling. Cutting, banishing, pushing, and pulling instinctively, letting his anger flow through his magic.
Dolohov rolled, dodged, and blocked, coughing blood as he shielded the strong spells coming from the raging young wizard. To Harry's surprise, with great control over his magic, the man was even able to retaliate; the bone-breaker hit the werewolf's right arm before he could react. But there was no pain, only rage as he continued attacking the wide-eyed Death Eater.
A surprised Dolohov gritted his teeth, channeling all his will and magic. For the first time in the duel, he spoke of an enchantment as he pointed his wand at Harry.
"Fiend Fire!" The Death Eater screamed, and Harry watched in awe as a torrent of fire exploded from the man's wand, twisting and turning, changing as it approached the werewolf. Soon, Harry was faced with an enormous bull made of pure fire, charging towards him with its head down and thorns pointing at his chest.
Harry put forward the most powerful shield he could muster, and even then, it almost broke at the first impact of the fire. His senses went ablaze, burning with the raging inferno around him.
So hot, so strong. Fire and rage were all he could smell. Rage that would engulf him, that would destroy and consume him. Rage that could save him. As his clothes started to burn, Harry knew he would not be able to resist the fire, but he was a hunter, a werewolf. His rage was bigger than Dolohov's. And his command over it as well. Harry felt the magic of the fire under the heat, the anger and malice the Death Eater was channeling through his wand. The werewolf sensed the magic, and the lack of control. Dolohov's control over the flames was there, but it was not complete. The fires could consume him as much as Harry if the Death Eater's will faltered, and Harry noticed it.
Harry projected his own magic, his own rage, fighting against the fire, taking control of it, taming it. His skin burned, the heat was almost unbearable, death was close, but, just like in the graveyard, that only fueled his power. The werewolf pushed and pushed, using all his magic, all his strength, all of his rage. With a mighty roar, his will overcame Dolohov's, and the profane fires bowed to his rage.
The last thing Anthony Dolohov saw was his own fire bull turning around in his direction while it took the shape of a giant burning wolf.
Then, he was no more.
Chapter 41
Chapter Text
An Ode to No One
AN: Some of the things happening in this chapter are simultaneous
On a different note, some people say some bad things in this chapter, but, not everyone is a good person.
Thanks to Glucifer for the help beta reading and editing!
The smell of burning flesh was what brought the young werewolf back into reality, and Harry was momentarily surprised not to feel more remorse for killing the death eater. Then, the pain hit him. The werewolf could feel his body trying to heal the deep cut that Dolohov's curse inflicted on his chest and arm, and the burnt skin on his hands and forearms from de fiend fire. Harry gritted his teeth, and felt a wave disappointing at himself.
"That was…" He shook his head. "I should have thought before running here. I have no plan and now, I'm alone…" Harry thought. He took a deep breath, shaking his head and trying to center himself. "I need to find Fleur!"
Magic twisted and swirled around the young werewolf as he focused his senses on finding his loved one, the pain and anger moving to the back of his mind giving way to the hunting instincts. Colors danced around him, then Harry felt a pull. Ignoring the pain of his healing body, Harry determinedly moved forwards amidst the chaos.
.oOo.
Voldemort watched in disbelief as the boy looked over what remained of the death eater's burnt body. Harry Potter not only took Anthony Dolohov toe to toe, he had taken control over the man's fiend fire and used it against the spell's own caster, a feet very few were capable of.
Harry Potter was much more than the dark lord was led to believe. Over the months following their confrontation in the graveyard, the boy had grown much in power, giving even more credence to the prophecy. A prophecy Voldemort didn't know in the entirety, and that enraged and scared him. The dark wizard now understood that every piece of knowledge he had about the Potter Sion was a lie. Every single prophet article, every single information the children of his followers in Hogwarts provided. All lies.
The Dark Lord saw the boy start running through the streets, casually dispatching one of the German mercenaries he had contracted with Malfoy's money, before turning around the corner and exiting his field of view.
Voldemort noticed People starting to leave their houses and their stores after the boy had passed, talking, getting inflamed, inspired by his courage and power after Harry Potter had defeated one of his strongest death eaters . Voldemort realized he was standing to lose his most powerful weapon, fear.
The boy gives them courage… gives them hope.
Suddenly, in his mind clouded by anger, anxiety and paranoia, the dark lord realized he had to kill the boy himself, but that was not going to be enough anymore. No, it needed to be public, it needed to be a spectacle, a show of power. Everyone would see who the greatest wizard was, he thought in his broken mind.
They would fear him.
The entire world would know who was the true master of magic. They would bow, or burn!
Voldemort didn't know if Amelia Bones was dead, but he didn't care anymore. Nothing more mattered until the boy was publicly executed.
Gritting his teeth, the dark lord took down the wards he was holding and vanished.
.oOo.
Dolores Umbridge was almost leaping with glee. Everything was going so much better than she had planned. First, the movement of traditionalists she had started had grown way faster than the woman anticipated. Then came the marking on the mudbloods' shops with the big letter M. Amelia Bones becoming the ministry had been a blow, but on the wake of her election her group had grown even more, and now, donations were coming, making the spread of their message even more doable.
And then there was this day. The idea was to make a protest when the minister visited the ruins of the prophet's building, creating some chaos showing that the blood traitor woman was not able to protect the community.
Dolores didn't know who was the first to cast a spell, maybe someone inspired by the death eaters attacking the minister, maybe a young wizard who had one too many drinks before the march. She didn't care. The witch only smiled as spells started being thrown at the establishments marked with the letter M. First minor color jinxes, then someone cast a blodning hex trying to break a window that unfortunately was protected by some kind of ward. But that was enough.
The traditionalists march was now in full swing, occupying the entire street, and the mudbloods' stores were being targeted. Those vermin would end the day knowing exactly what their place was, under their betters.
Dolores was even thankful for the dark lord's attack. Of course, his methods may be a little too extreme, but she couldn't deny that his ideals were right.
"Move!" Dolores heard a voice yel, something that sounded almost like an animal roar. "Out of my way!"
The witch turned around and froze. Around her the excited screams ceased as they all looked at the figure walking towards them.
Anger hose from deep inside her. By Merlin, how she hated that boy! Dolores's wand hand trembled, she gritted her teeth. Everything wrong that had happened in her life was his fault. She had been fired from the ministry, publicly humiliated, her ambitions destroyed, all because of the prat in front of her.
Harry Potter!
Then, Dolores noticed it. Harry's glowing green eyes, his flowing unruly hair, slightly pointed ears. Fangs, the boy had fangs, and as she looked down, there were claws in his hands. The anger quickly gave way into realization, and realization into fear.
Harry Potter was not human. Harry Potter was a monster!
"Damn, I have no time for that…" the monstrous boy growled. "I said MOVE!" He ROARED as a command, it seemed like the world trembled, people parting ways unintentionally, lost to the power in his voice.
The fat witch felt the oppressing weight of his magic, almost like a punch to her gut. It was so strong, so raw and savage, that Dolores lost her foot, falling into her behinds with a loud thump. She barely registered as the monster passed by her, the people opening the way in fear and awe of his magical power.
Dolores Umbridge was trembling in a mix of fear and anger. And it was not over yet. A group of people, just as large as the traditionalists behind her, was approaching, following Harry Potter's steps. Mudbloods and blood traitors, their ugly faces contorting in anger at her and her followers.
She was quickly crawling away from the comotion when the spells started flying.
.oOo.
A mix of sweat and blood trickled down from where the cutting curse had touched Fleur's forehead. Her breathing was heavy, she was getting very tired. With her wand up, the veela tried to shield her friend Angelina, who whimpered in pain from many cuts and a broken leg.
There were no more aurors around them, and the young witch couldn't see Sirius and Amelia anymore, there was only the other woman in front of her.
Bellatrix Lestrange held her broken shoulder as it started to slowly heal, and looked at Fleur with her violet eyes, gritting her pointed teeth.
"Impressive…" Bellatrix said in a more sane voice than Fleur had heard from her until now. "That actually hurt, a lot!"
"Merde!" Fleur swears. That was the best blow she had landed on the other witch, and she was already healing.
"And here I thought you were just a icle little french harlot," Bellatrix continued, moving slowly to the right, trying to circle around the veela. "But now I know what the boy seems in you." The woman smiled, and Fleur could say it was one of the scariest things she had ever seen. "Now, icle little bird, as fun as it is to dance with you, I don't want to kill you. No no no. You see, you are a prize for my alpha and his little puppy, so, why don't you throw that pretty little wand of yours and come with me?"
Fleur shivered, both in anger and fear.
"Je t'emmerde!" The veela answered and with a fluid movement, a bright red light left her wand towards the other woman.
"So feisty!" Bellatrix smiled, jumping over the building's rumble only to be hit by a stunner that sent her back rolling against the dirt. Fleur looked down at Angelina, who had her wand up, it seemed the young witch still had some fight in her.
"You damn black bitch!" Bellatrix growled as she got up from the ground, her black dress stained with dirt. Fleur gulped, any normal witch would be out cold after the bone breaker and the stunner, and yet, the woman still got up to her feet. "With you, I don't have to hold back, you, little black girl, you are going to die!"
Fleur shivered seeing an all familiar rage on Bellatrix's violet eyes. Angelina was trembling, gulping for air. But then, the veela felt cold.
An unnatural, dense and dead cold.
.oOo.
Sirius looked around the rumble, seeing the downed aurors and death eaters alike. He could only hope they were still alive. The wizard squeezed Amelia's hand as he turned to face Fenrir Greyback, the one responsible for most of the wounded, maybe dead, around them.
Fenrir was indeed a beast. The fucker was durable, cunning, Astrong as hell and didn't need a wand, just like Harry. Sirius was sure he did it deliberately, showing up without a wand so the wizards would underestimate the werewolf , only to be cut by powerful cutting and blood boiling curses. Combined with his strength and speed, he was indeed a force to be reckoned with. But Fenrir was also overconfident and liked to inflict pain a little too much, and that was his weakness, he was not as efficient as he could be. A fatal flaw.
And that was why Sirius and Amelia were still fighting. Thanks to their training and closeness, the couple was able to defend themselves and gain time. For what, Sirius was not sure.
"Right…" Fenrir growled. "At first this was fun, but I have other things to do." The werewolf said. Sirius noticed small pebbles trembling around the monster's feet. "I understand you are the current guardian of my welp, dog man." Sirius gulped, and Fenrir smiled, a vicious, hungry smile. "Don't worry, dog, I will take good care of him!" Fenrir roared, a true, bone shilling roar, and Sirius could see the magic coming for them.
Amelia tried to raise a shield, the most powerful one she could, but Sirius knew it wouldn't be enough. The wizard jumped, grabbing the woman and trying to move themselves out of the way. Luckily he succeeded, mostly. But at least, he felt almost no pain as his left leg disappeared from beneath his knee.
.oOo.
Remus Lupin knew he had not been a good friend. He had doubted the loyalty of someone who had done everything he could to be at his side growing up. Sirius could have forgiven him, but the werewolf hadn't forgiven himself.
Remus Lupin also knew he was a bad "uncle". He had abandoned Harry. Twice. There was no other way to look at each. First, when he was a baby. He should be there for Harry, as he knew Harry would be there for him. But he left the self loathing and anger led him away. Then again when he bit the young boy. Remus was not there to guide Harry after cursing him. Harry now saw him as cowardly and weak.
And it was true. Remus had abandoned his pack, twice. But not again!
Remus watched in horror as Fenrir's spell blasted through the ramble and hitting Sirius and Amelia, and, for the first time since he had transformed, he let the rage take over. He roared, calling for his magic and sheer will, and blasted his wand towards Fenrir. No enchanting, just pure and raw magical power and intention.
Fenrir was impacted by the blast with a loud cracking on bones breaking and muscle being ripped. It was so strong that the enormous man was thrown against the rumble, crashing through a wall with a loud thump. Almost blind by rage, Remus spared just a quick glance at his friends, Sirius looking at him with wide eyes while Amelia tried to stop the bleeding on what remained of the man's leg. Seeing his friend in the state only fueled his anger. His rage burned underneath his skin, and Remus trembled with power as he ran towards the building Fenrir had landed on. He felt alive, he felt powerful as he embraced the rage.
He finally understood what Harry said.
Remus jumped through the hole as the other werewolf got up surrounded by a cloud of dust and debri, Fenrir's right arm was hanging limp on his side, held by a mix of fabric, torn flesh and brittle bones, his face contorting in pain and anger.
"So much potential…" Fenrir said with a snarow. Remus waved his wand, firing spells that were either dodged or battled away by the other werewolf with grunts of the pain. Even more cracking of bones fueled the air mixed with the sounds of stones exploding as the spells hit.
Remus saw as Fenrir spit a glob of blood as the blodning spell hit him on the chest. Fenrir had to raise his working hand to protect from a cutting curse to his face, more blood staining his sleeve. Remus was roaring and sweating, still driven by rage. So much so that He was blind to the rock that flew his way. Remus almost fell, feeling dizzy as blood ran down from his forehead. It was enough to stop his spell barrage though.
"Is a shame, boy," Fenrir said, his body contorting, fur growing around his body as his arm reattached to his shoulder. "It's a shame you only realized the gift I gave you too late!" Claws sprang from the man's fingers as his nozzle grew. Remus' eyes were wide as Fenrir transformed, not during the full moon, during the day! It was impossible, and yet, the enormous silver furred werewolf was there in front of him.
"H… how?" Remus whispered. The rage was gone, all that was left was fear. Remus tried to fire spells against the monstrous creature that leapt at him. It was so fast that he could barely see it move.
And, soon enough, Remus Lupin couldn't see no more.
.oOo.
Sirius tried to get up as he heard the roars and the sounds of spellcasting coming from the destroyed building, the pain on what was left of his leg almost not registering on his mind. He needed to get up! He needed to help his friend.
"Sirius, STOP!" Amelia yelled at him, her wand moving frantically around the place where his knee should have been. "Let me try to stop the blood, please!" there were tear strips on her dirty face, and yet, her eyes were firm and determined.
"I… need to… help Remus!" Sirius whimpered.
"If you die, you will not be able to help anyone!" The witch said with a commanding voice. "Now stop!"
Then, there was silence coming from the building. Sirius watched, holding his breath as a figure came from the destroyed wall. It was Fenrir Greyback, and he was holding something. Sirius' eyes went wide, the werewolf throwed the thing he was holding in the wizard's direction, and the object hit the ground with a wet, disgusting noise before rolling and stopping right in front of the couple. Sirius and Amelia looked at Remus's unseeing eyes, still wide in terror.
"No no no no…" Sirius mumbled in disbelieve. "MOOOOOONNNYYY NO!" He screamed, his heart clenching with a pain bigger than the one in his leg.
And then, there was cold.
The dementors were coming for them.
.oOo.
The peregrine falcon made of pure light and magic circled around the two young women crouching and embracing each other. Fleur was feeling Angelina sobbing in her arms, lost in pain and sadness as the horde of dementors hovered in a spiral above them, her patronus being the only thing keeping them at bay.
But it wouldn't last long. There were too many of them, their aura was too oppressive. "How could Harry do it? Am I that weak?" Fleur thought as the darkness and the cold creeped into the depths of her soul, grabbing at her being.
Fleur remembered when Harry returned from the department of mysteries, broken and mangled, and she was not there with him. She had promised to be by his side, but she was not there when he was taken into the graveyard, she was useless, helpless when he needed her the most.
Self centered, egotistical. Tha was what she was. Fleur had almost thrown the love of her life away on the first problem they had. She had cheated on Harry, and for what? To have one up on Daphne? To explore with Hermione? To assert her dominance over him? How could she have done that? At that moment, Fleur realized she didn't deserve Harry, or her friends, or her family, maybe she was better off gone.
The falcon patronus waved away and dissolved, as Fleur's mind spiraled into sadness, darkness and despair. Far away, she could hear Angelina's sobs, and the veela could only pray it would not be too painful.
"Je t'aime Harry… pardon…" Fleur whispered, feeling the chilling touch of the dementor's skeletal fingers on her face. She looked up, and the last thing she saw was the big ethereal wolf jumping on the creature's and biting its neck before everything had gone dark.