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61.53% For Love of Magic ( Noodlehammer) / Chapter 39: Chapter 37 (Part 2)

Chapter 39: Chapter 37 (Part 2)

December 2nd.

Harry breathed deeply, his entire focus turned inward. This had to be done right.

He sought out the spirit fo the wolf that was now part of him. It had been a painstaking process to get this far, with every step a struggle, but he finally felt confident that he could control it.

The wolf came to the surface and began to change him, bones and flesh reforming and while fur grew. It was an unpleasant sensation, so much more unpleasant and unnatural than an Animagus transformation.

The more he changed, the stronger the wolf became, but it no longer tried to overtake him. It took a long minute for his transformation to reach the halfway point that Ahiga had used to confront him and Sirius, but Harry kept pushing further. Another minute passed before Harry dropped to all fours and panted with his tongue hanging out from his lupine muzzle.

The wolf form was large, much larger than it had been when he had skinned it, but that was a matter of body mass proportion. Unlike the Animagus transformation, he was not inverting the state between man and animal, but forcing the animal form over the man.

Also unlike his raven form, the instincts of the wolf were much more distinct. The mental aspect of the transformation had been considerably more challenging than the physical.

"Harry, you're so cute!" Luna squealed and rushed to hug him around the neck.

Harry was amused by his mate's antics and feeling playful in response, so he gave the side of her face a massive lick.

Instead of being digusted, Luna merely giggled at the slobber covering her cheek.

"I guess we can keep him, as long as he doesn't shed hair all over the house." Dora quipped.

"Or chew on my shoes." Fleur added.

Harry was still feeling playful and loped clumsily over to the two women. Another difference from the Animagus transformation -the wolf's instincts being distinct from his own meant that he was as uncoordinated as a newborn pup.

Dora seemed to guess what he was intending and stepped back.

"Don't you dare." She warned.

But Harry did dare, rising up on his hind legs and toppling her over. Then, once she was pinned under him, started licking her face, much to her shouts of protest and disgust.

December 16th.

"What can I do for you, Auror Tonks?" Bonesy asked.

"I would like tender my resignation from the Auror Corps, Ma'am." Dora said formally, speaking past the lump in her throat.

She didn't really want to quit, but she couldn't stand being an auror anymore with what she was helping Harry do.

Bonesy looked momentarily surprised before her features smoothed out again.

"I'd hate to lose someone with as much promise as you, Tonks." She said carefully. "May I ask what brought this on?"

How was she supposed to answer that? Im sorry, but I can't be an auror anymore while moonlighting as an accessory to murder, kidnapping and a bunch of other crimes.

She had insisted on being present every time that Harry interrogated one of the people he kidnapped. Only once had they snatched someone that didn't deserve to die. That man had been an unpleasant bigot, but lacked the nerve to actually act on those beliefs. Him they had obliviated and returned home, everyone else they'd caught though…

Dora had never realised how bad this pureblood supremacy movement was. Even those that hadn't been death eaters were often guilty of killing or tormenting muggles for fun. They didn't even see those without magic as people, but more like animals. Worse even, because at least they didn't hate animals.

Though it had made her uncomfortable, she had agreed with Harry on the need to remove these people before Voldemort could come back and make use of them, but having the true depths of their evil revealed to her, sometimes under Veritaserum and sometimes in enraged ranting… well, it could change a person. It had certainly changed her. These pureblood supremacists… there was no point in pretending that they didn't need to be put down. Most of them were so brainwashed and deluded that they actually thought of themselves as heroes for 'purging the muggle filth'.

"A conflict between my personal and professional life, Ma'am." She finally said.

"I see." Bonesy said simply, giving her a scrutinising look.

Dora resisted the urge to sweat. Knowing that Bonesy knew - or at least heavily suspected - that Harry was behind the recent string of disappearances, was deeply disconcerting. Still, the fact that she wasn't really acting on those suspicions was at least a little bit reassuring.

"This wouldn't happen to have anything to do with Yaxley, would it?" Bonesy spoke again after a long few seconds.

Ah, Yaxley, another death eater remnant. That one had been especially personal because he had been a senior administrator in the DMLE. It would certainly explain why the Aurors always seemed to be a step behind the Death Eaters during the war.

Needles to say, Bonesy had been beyond livid when they had investigated his home for clues about his disappearance and found a set of Death Eater robes in his closet. Hell, the entire DMLE had been livid.

Yaxley hadn't actually been dumb enough to keep the robes there, but several others had been and it had been simple enough to plant them.

Bonesy's question might sound innocent enough, simply inquiring if she was quitting out of shame at having worked alongside a death eater, but the sharp tone of warning in her voice said otherwise. She was being asked if she was no longer able to keep Harry pointed at the right people.

"No, Ma'am, I will always uphold the principles of law and order, but Harry is intending to travel to Egypt in a couple of months and I'm going with him."

That was perhaps more blatant than she would have liked, but she'd never been good at subtle wordplay. All this dancing around the subject was Narcissa's thing.

Bonesy stared at her hard for nearly a full minute, until the only thing keeping Dora from sweating like a pig was the iron control she was exerting over her body.

"Very well,Tonks." The DMLE director finally nodded sharply. "Send me and Scrimgeour a letter of resignation and I'll have you released from duty."

Dora nodded in relief and nearly ran from the office. As if to say goodbye one last time, the carpet tripped her up and made her take a nasty spill on the floor outside the office.

"I'm alright, I meant to do that." She assured the Bonesy's amused secretary, face burning in embarrassment. She'd thought that her days as a klutz were behind her now that her Metamorph ability was more tightly controlled, but that meeting had been so tense that her relief at having it end had caused enough of a shift to mess up her balance.

December 25th.

Draco Malfoy had not been having a good time since angrily sending his mother away. In retrospect, sending away the one person that could have advised him as he acclimated to life as an adult and head of the family had not been a good idea, but his pride would not let him admit that.

So he had muddled through it on his own. His father had never really gotten the chance to teach him how to manage the family's finances or various business interests, so those had suffered under his inexperienced hand.

But things were finally starting to look up for him now. He may have lost a considerable chunk of money and business to his rivals, but now he had finally been invited to a meeting of his peers. None of this mudblood Christmas nonsense that had infected their world lately either, but a proper Yule celebration.

That celebration was over now and he was ensconced in the parlor of Lord Avery's manor, along with lords Flint, Rookwood, Bulstrode, Yaxley and Mulciber.

"Alright, Avery, we're all here, now what did you want to talk about?" Bulstrode near-demanded.

Draco thought that was rude, but Lord Avery seemed used to it.

"I think you know what I want to talk about." Avery sighed. "People have been disappearing, our people. Macnair and the Carrow twins could be written off as coincidence - those three were always weird - but what about Thaddeus Nott, Edward parkinson and Alexius Carrrow? Three Lords of noble Houses - an ancient one in the case of Nott - just vanishing into thin air? And what about all the others like Thorfinn Rowle, Gibbon and Jugson? All of them had one thing in common, they were all respectable purebloods."

Draco knew about these disappearances. His old friends, Vincent Crabbe and Gregory Goyle, had lost their fathers that way, as had Pansy. Theodore Nott, another housemate from Slytherin, was now an orphan. Those were the ones he knew, but there were others.

"He's right." Lord Yaxley said grimly. "My nephew, Corban, he vanished too. And Bones isn't doing a damn thing about it even though he was a senior administrator in the DMLE."

"Of course she isn't."Lord Rookwood scoffed. "The Aurors found a set of Death Eater robes and a mask in his home when they went looking for him. Bones probably raised a drink to whoever did it."

"Those were planted there!" Lord Yaxley said angrily.

Draco thought so too, though he wouldn't be surprised if Corban Yaxley had indeed been a death eater. In fact, he was fairly certain that everyone here except him was one. That was why he had been so pleased to be invited to dine with these great men, who had at one point been on the front lines of the fight to reclaim their world from the mudbloods alongside his father.

"It was Potter, wasn't it?" he finally spoke up. Even Speaking that bastard's name still brought the anger back, even after all this time.

"Had to be." Lord Mulciber said. "Nott opposes his insane werewolf legislation and vanishes two days before it was to be discussed again? That couldn't have been a coincidence."

"It's not the only thing either." Lord Bulstrode said with a scowl. "Potter has Fudge wrapped completely around his finger and has been using the panic about all these disappearances to get him passing even more insane policies. A few more years of this and purebloods will be reduced to begging in the streets, if there's even any of us still alive by then."

"So what are we going to do about it?" Draco asked eagerly, already dreaming of revenge against his hated enemy.

"Unfortunately, there isn't much we can do about it." Lord Flint said darkly. "Potter has Bones, Fudge, the Prophet and the public on his side. Lucius must have seen this coming and tried to get rid of him before he became a problem, but we all know how that turned out. And now he even has Narcissa helping him along."

Draco's clenched his jaw at the mention of his father and mother. Remembering how his father was murdered still lit a fire in him. Thinking of his mother also made him mad, but not at her. No, he still loved his mother and had realised that Potter must have done something to her. He would free her from that evil bastard's influence one day.

"There is one thing we could do." Lord Avery said cautiously.

Draco was eager to hear it, but everyone else seemed to already know.

"You can't be serious." Lord Bulstrode said flatly.

"What choice do we have?" Avery argued. "Do we wait for Potter to kill us all one by one instead?"

"What are you talking about?" Draco asked.

The other five exchanged grim looks, sighed and nodded.

"We're talking about leaving the country-"

"And let Potter win?!" Draco demanded furiously, surging to his feet. He was completely incensed by the cowardice.

"Sit down, boy." Avery snapped and glared at Draco until he did so, then he continued. "We were used to Dumbledore's dawdling and let Potter get too strong. 'He's just a boy, what can he do?' we thought. Well now we've got a halfblood with too much power and a head full of crazy ideas tearing our world down one stone at a time. We tried fighting Potter indirectly and failed - he has too much support now. Trying to kill him would be almost like trying to kill Dumbledore - far too dangerous. What we need is someone that can match him… we need the Dark Lord."

Draco waited for him to elaborate, but his impatience got the better of him. "But the Dark Lord is dead."

"As it turns out, he might not be." Rookwood said. "The Dark Lord would often say that he had traveled further down the path of immortality than anyone else ever had. We hadn't really figured out what that meant until we started hearing rumors and whispers of strange things happening in Albania recently. Stories about a dark spirit haunting the forests. We think it might be our lord down there, seeking a way to return to physical form. Even the Dark Mark has started getting darker again."

Now Draco was almost bouncing in excitement. If the Dark Lord could be revived, then everything would be put to rights!

"So we're going to search for him?" He asked, barely keeping his glee contained.

"Yes, but we have to be smart about it." Mulciber cautioned. "With Nott in Potter's hands, he might know this too and if he catches wind of us trying to bring the Dark Lord back, he'll probably stop bothering with subtlety and come after us like an angry dragon. We have to make him think that we're just running."

"We could set a trap for him." Draco suggested, his jaw clenching at the thought of hiding from Potter.

"I told you, it's too dangerous." Avery growled. "We have no idea what kind of magic he has at his command so any trap we set could just as easily backfire on us."

"What do you suggest then?" Draco asked bitterly.

"The five of us and a few others we plan to recruit, we have connections on the continent, we can get in touch with people that would be sympathetic to our cause and give us shelter, but Potter will no doubt have his eye on us even if he can't get at us anymore. We'll have to stay far away from Albania, hidden under powerful wards. But you, Draco, you're young and look like less of a threat because you've never really done anything to him outside of a few schoolyard scuffles."

"And let's not forget Narcissa." Flint broke in. "We all know how much she loved you, still loves you. Her being Potter's mistress will actually protect you."

Draco ground his teeth together at the unwanted reminder of how his mother was being defiled. "What do I have to do then?"

Yaxley answered his question, paying no heed to his terse tone. "First, you'll need to keep going as you were for a while so that it doesn't look like we left together. You'll receive a letter from an old business associate of your father's a month or so after we've left. Invite him to dinner and accept his offer of a business opportunity in Italy. Stay there for a few months, make it look like you're planning to transplant the Malfoy family like your ancestor did centuries ago when he moved from France to Britain. Keep your head down, buy a house, make friends, get a wife even - Italy is one of the few places left in the world where you can still find a pureblood witch of good breeding and it would help your cover. Whatever you do, don't give Potter any reason at all to turn his attention to you. If your mother sends you any more letters and you decide to reply, assume that Potter will read them too, so don't suddenly change your behavior. Once you've got a routine established, go to Albania and make contact with the local wizards. There's no Ministry there, but there are are a few places where you can find magicals. Find our lord and help him return."

"I'll do it." Draco agreed with barely any time spared for thinking. His mind was filled with scenes of glorious revenge.

"Good. While you're doing that, we'll be gathering support wherever we can find it and keeping Potter's eyes off you."

That sounded perfect to Draco and he agreed instantly, determined to succeed.

"You think he'll succeed?" Mulciber asked.

"Maybe." Avery shrugged. "He won't have to suffer the Dark Lord's displeasure for leaving him hanging these past fifteen years at least."

"Yes, but we will." Bulstrode scowled.

"We'll have sent Draco to him and we'll provide him with new recruits." Flint argued. "Surely he'll forgive us?"

"Yes, because our lord was known for his forgiveness." Yaxley said sarcastically and then sighed. "But it's not like we have much choice. If we don't do anything Potter is going to run Britain into the ground with his muggle-loving policies and I don't think he'll give up on killing us even if we leave the country."

The others slumped at that undeniable truth.

"I suppose we'd better start moving our gold and contacting the others then." Mulciber sighed.

December 25th. Potter Manor.

"Harry, could I have a word, in private?"

Harry looked at Aurélie in confusion and wondered why there was a sudden dread in his heart. This wasn't another sexual proposition, he was sure of it. The senior veela was dead serious, not flirty. That couldn't be good.

The Christmas get-together had been a bit too social for his liking but not terribly painful. As far as pseudo in-laws went, the ones that came along with Dora and Fleur were easy enough to get along with. What then, could be the cause of this unreasonable dread?

"Alright, follow me to my study." He said.

"You may want to include your ladies as well." Aurélie suggested.

Now Harry was even more baffled and worried, but he agreed to do so.

A few minutes later, his trio of girlfriend joined them in the study, looking at Aurélie expectantly, who took a deep breath and dropped the bomb.

"I am pregnant."

There was a dumbstruck silence that felt like the longest five seconds of Harry's life.

"And I'm…?" Was all he managed to croak out. He'd already broken into cold sweat.

"Well I admit that I did sleep with a couple of other wizards lately, but you are the only one likely to have gotten me pregnant." Aurélie confirmed with an amused smile. "You are fortunate that the other three of my granddaughters you slept with were on the potion, or they might have been here with me right now, delivering similar news."

Another silence ensued, shorter this time.

Fleur broke it by shrieking happily and jabbering congratulation at her grandmother in French. Harry was still far too stunned to really register what was being said.

"You've really gone and done it now, Harry." Dora said wryly, then shook her head and sighed. "I guess it was bound to happen eventually."

Harry couldn't respond with anything other than a blank stare as his mind helpfully replayed every bit of information he had on veela reproduction. Sperm count and strength were irrelevant, only the magic mattered. Contraception spells were useless, only a veela-specific potion could prevent them from getting pregnant. Veela became fertile somewhere in their mid to late teens and reached peak fertility in their early twenties, after which it started dropping off, but never completely vanished because they did not ovulate or menstruate, nor did they go through menopause. That was the theory anyway since veela fertility wasn't something that worked on measurable scientific principles, but observations supported it. He had speculated on how much of a factor the magical power of the father played in the chances of conception, but had no hard data from which to draw any conclusions.

Harry hadn't for a moment considered that a sixty-seven-year-old veela would still be able to get pregnant. They had enough trouble conceiving when they were young. Even if that was with wizards far weaker than him, surely his power couldn't compensate for that much? Apparently it could.

"What will this make me?" Luna wondered.

"What do you mean?" Dora asked, puzzled.

"In relation to the baby, what will it make me?" Luna elaborated. "Am I going to be an aunt? Cousin? Mother-in-law? Aunt-in-law? Niece-in-law?"

"Erm… I don't think you'll be related to it at all?"

"Oh." Luna sounded disappointed, Harry dimly registered.

The two veela ceased their rapid and enthusiastic French conversation and turned back to the others

"Harry," She began gently. "you don't have to worry about acting as a father or providing financial support. I may be getting a bit old to be a mother, but I could easily live for another forty, fifty or even sixty years and I have enough gold to be comfortable. In truth, I would like to thank you for this gift, unintentional and unexpected though it was. I hadn't thought to be blessed with a fourth daughter."

Harry could only nod, unable to articulate properly just yet. Aurélie's assurances that he didn't have to be a father to the baby made him feel as if he'd just dodged an avalanche. Financial support he would have been fine with and would provide gladly if she ever asked, but being a father? No way. He had stuff he wanted to do and stuff he had to do, stuff that children did not go with. They made him spectacularly uncomfortable as it was.

"Can we visit Harry's daughter once she's born?" Luna asked hopefully.

"We will visit." Fleur said firmly before Aurélie could answer. "I want to be part of my new aunt's life."

Harry did not want anything of the sort. He was still in full 'dodge any and all responsibility' mode. Unfortunately, there was simply no good way to tell your girlfriend that you didn't want to visit the baby you put in her grandmother. Had anyone in the history of ever needed to say such a thing?

"Of course you can visit." Aurélie assured. "I would be very happy if you did in fact, but there is something you need to be aware of."

"What?" Harry managed to ask, though it came out far more nervous than he would have liked.

"As you might imagine, a veela getting pregnant at my age is not a common event. Unheard of actually. There was quite an uproar when the healers found out. I have them sworn to silence for the moment, but the news will get out once I start showing . We spoke to several people about our visit here last month and it will not take long to connect the dots. Your reputation as a powerful wizard will also work against you here, as you are the most obvious candidate to have fathered my baby and I doubt Fleur's counsin's will stay quiet about it in any case."

"What are you saying?" Harry asked, his previous dread coming back.

"There are other older veela out there that would love to have more daughters but are unable to conceive anymore with average wizards, as well as younger ones who either have trouble conceiving at all or will simply be drawn to a wizard powerful enough to impregnate a veela my age." She explained bluntly. "I am sorry, Harry, but in a year from now at most, every veela in the world will know that you are prime breeding material. They will descend on you in droves. They will attempt to seduce, bribe or persuade you to sleep with them for whatever reason. They may even seek to supplant Fleur, join your little harem in their own right or perhaps simply have a one night stand with you for the thrill."

Harry sank into the nearest chair, wondering at how fucked a person could be. The unintentional pun almost made him snort. He took a deep breath and shoved the confusing tangle of emotions to the back of his mind.

"Well, fuck." He said succintly.

"Surely they would not be so blatant?" Fleur asked in surprise and some alarm. "There have been powerful wizards before and they did not have veela hounding them like you described."

"Times have changed. Veela are more accepted now than we have ever been and it is no longer as dangerous to pursue someone as it was even a few decades ago. Moreover, the fact that you are one of his lovers and that he has already gotten me pregnant will be enough to assure most of them that there is no danger in approaching him."

"And the werewolf legislation he pushed through the British Wizengamot recently will have also reinforced his image of non-discrimination." Fleur groaned. "You are right, they will be all over him."

"And what are we supposed to do about this mess?" Dora asked, sounding severely exasperated. Harry couldn't blame her. At this point even he was wondering if he was worth the bother.

"I do not know what to tell you." Aurélie shrugged apologetically. "You could send a message of blanket refusal to the communes, but I doubt it will have much effect. You could also set aside a certain amount of time every week to entertain them. It would impose some order on the situation, but I can understand why you might not be comfortable with that."

Yes, that would be quite uncomfortable. Having a constant stream of beautiful women wanting to hop into bed with him was one thing, but this sounded like it would get tiresome real fast. Shit, it was already tiresome and it hadn't even happened yet. And that wasn't even mentioning his unwillingness to be a sperm donor for every veela looking to get pregnant.

He could think of one course of action that would prevent this thing from blowing up, but he wasn't going to mention it. Judging by Aurélie's words so far, she would never agree to have an abortion and it would only serve to piss Fleur off if he suggested it.

"You said a year before it gets out?" He asked instead.

"A year at most." Aurélie corrected. "I will start showing in a month or two. The news will start spreading then and it is anyone's guess how long it takes before all of us know it. It will likely be closer to six months than a year."

"Right. Well, I suppose if worst comes to worst we can just move to Black Island permanently." Harry sighed.

Putting the manor under Fidelius was another option, but not really a feasible one. Not only would the spell be iffy to cast given the number of people that had already been over, but the Fidelius also had two serious weaknesses. The first was that the Secret Keeper could not stay within the secret for more than a couple of hours at a time without breaking the spell and the second was that the Secret Giver had to trust the Secret Keeper before he could pass on the secret. Seeing as the only people he trusted enough to hand such a secret to were Luna, Fleur and Dora, the Fidelius was not viable.

"I am sorry for the inconvenience this will cause you." Aurélie apologised, though it didn't come off entirely sincere thanks to the smile on her face.

"It's fine." Harry sighed. "Dora was right earlier - it was bound to happen eventually. Having hordes of beautiful women after my sauce is admittedly an unusual consequence, but it's hardly the first time something blew up in my face. Sirius is never going to let me hear the end of it though."

January 2nd. Hogwarts, Headmaster's office.

"Good afternoon, Alastor." Albus greeted his visitor. "What do you have for me?"

"Nothing." The man most commonly known as Mad-Eye Moody grunted.

"Nothing?" Albus blinked.

"Nothing." Alastor confirmed as he dumped himself into a chair.

"Could you perhaps elaborate?" Albus prompted.

"Not much to elaborate on." The scarred and maimed wizard growled. "You asked me to look into all these disappearing death eaters-"

"We don't know that they are death eaters." Albus interjected.

Alastor gave him a look that conveyed his disagreement - and possibly profanity - before continuing as if he had not been interrupted. "I looked into it and I didn't find a damn thing. I talked to Amelia and her boys didn't find anything either; no spell traces, no physical evidence, no witnesses, no reports of anyone acting suspiciously beforehand, nothing at all to go on. The best they got was some spell residue that was too decayed to be useful. Whoever's doing this is good, damn good, and they must have some way of collecting information without drawing suspicion too, they'd have to if they wanted to snatch some of the people they did."

"Thank you, Alastor." Albus said, nodding thoughtfully.

Moody nodded at the dismissal and left, leaving the ancient headmaster alone with his thoughts.

He was deeply troubled by recent events. They reminded him sharply of what had been happening prior to the outbreak of the war against Voldemort. Tom had also been adept at making people disappear without a trace.

But it could not be Tom this time. His old student may not be entirely sane anymore, but he would not have returned from death only to start destroying his own power base.

Albus did not like the thought that Harry Potter was the most likely person to be behind this. He was only sixteen, still a boy that should be enjoying his youth. There was no proof that it was him, but there was no denying that Harry had profited greatly from the disappearances. Not so much in gold as in political clout, especially as most of his political opposition among the most traditionalist families had recently packed up and left the country. Then there was the fact that young Nymphadora had recently left the Auror Corps, Alastor had been quite put out about that, but Albus wondered if Harry had something to do with it.

And he couldn't forget that Harry also knew the prophecy… was it possible that he was trying to undermine it? Albus couldn't tell. There was simply no proof .

He wanted to believe that Harry had nothing to do with it. The lad had - in spite of his stated indifference - used his power and influence to do good so far. The improved werewolf legislation would do much to keep all but the worst of the werewolves away from Voldemort.

He had done other things too, smaller things. Albus may not approve of how Harry was manipulating Fudge, but he couldn't say that any of it was harmful the way that Lucius Malfoy's manipulations had been. Anyone with eyes to see could tell that Fudge's recent, uncharacteristic competence was due to Harry's whispered suggestions and sometimes overt support. The current minister was enjoying a very high popularity these days thanks to that association, which only made him ever more dependent on Harry.

It didn't add up. Albus didn't think that Harry had lied when he'd said that he didn't care for politics, everything else that he knew about the lad supported that assertion, so this maneuvering was out of character for him. Why was he doing it?

And where was Voldemort? Albus had been sure that he would have acted by now, his reappearance during Harry's first year seemed to portend that the prophecy was moving towards resolution now that the Dark Lord's fated enemy had returned to the magical world, but then things had quieted down again. Was Voldemort even capable of acting? He didn't really know how much freedom of action a disembodied spirit held in this world by Horcruxes had.

So many unanswered questions… Albus was used to being the one with the answers, not the questions. Ever since Harry had left Hogwarts it seemed like events were bypassing him and he didn't much care for it. How was he supposed to prepare for Voldemort's return when he was lacking critical information?

January 10th. Ymer Island, Ravenhead.

Edward Parkinson had no idea what day it was or how long he'd been here, having no means by which to measure time. He didn't even know where 'here' was . All he knew was that he'd gone horseback riding as he did every Saturday - a somewhat eccentric hobby for a proper pureblood, he knew, but he hadn't let that stop him from enjoying it - and the next thing he knew, he was waking up in a prison cell.

It wasn't bad, as far as prison cells went, much better than Azkaban to be sure. It was made entirely of smooth, dark stone and was neither too cold nor too hot. He had a a raised stone rectangle with permanent cushioning charms weaved into it and a bedroll on top of it to sleep on. He also had a sink that provided all the water he wanted and there was a magical toilet in a sectioned off area so at least he didn't have to do his business in full view of his fellow prisoners. Meals were delivered regularly and they were more than just bread and water as he'd half-expected. He even had a working shower to wash himself in.

All in all, it was fairly comfortable, if lacking in entertainment aside from talking to the other captives. Nothing compared to the luxuries he was used to, but honestly better than he'd feared when first waking up.

Potter was apparently not interested in being cruel, but he wasn't interested in being kind either. In fact, Edward got the feeling that Potter found this entire exercise of abducting people and bringing them to wherever this place was to be quite tedious. It was a disquieting feeling, to be thought of as a mere nuisance.

He would have wondered why the young wizard was even doing it if he hadn't been able to glean from the interrogation he received soon after waking up in captivity that the Dark Lord was still alive somehow and that Potter was acting to weaken him.

That had been a shock, and not a particularly pleasant one either. Edward had been sure that the Dark Lord was dead and had been glad of it. However much he hated the muggles and mudbloods, it had quickly become clear that Voldemort was not any better for their world than that filth. Maybe that was why he'd never made it into the Inner Circle.

The certainty that joining the Death Eaters had been a bad idea had once again been reinforced by Potter. The Dark Lord had been a cruel master and now Potter was a ruthless enemy, for no other reason than that association.

Edward once again cursed the youthful foolishness that had led him to this situation, caught in the middle of a power struggle between two wizards that could squash him like a bug… At least his wife and daughter were safe, Potter was at least not as indiscriminate and monstrous as the Dark Lord… or was that just the effect of his women? Edward briefly considered what the Dark Lord would have been like if he had a woman or two to keep him company and snorted in laughter. The only woman crazy enough to get near Voldemort would be Bellatrix and that lunatic would only serve to make him more monstrous rather than less.

"What's so funny, Parkinson?" Alexius Carrow demanded from his own cell.

"Nothing, just a thought I had." Edward sighed, garnering a scoff from the other man.

Carrow was taking his imprisonment much less calmly than him and was constantly looking for an excuse to start an argument. Edward supposed that he would be feeling upset too if he'd lost an ear and two fingers during Potter's interrogation like Carrow had.

"Was it a thought about how we're going to escape?" one of the other prisoners asked sarcastically.

Edward sighed again. Escape… that would be quite a trick. They had no wands and no idea what Potter had done with them, the cell was solid stone, the bars thick steel, wards prevented any Apparition or Portkeys… If there was any way to escape from this place, he couldn't think of it.

The other continued debating ideas about how to escape, all of them quite unrealistic. Some even thought that the Dark Lord would come to save them, the news of his continued existence having spread.

Edward didn't participate in those discussions. He'd once been hopeful about escape or rescue too, but seeing Potter take people out of their cells and never returning them made him doubt that any of them would ever be tasting freedom again.

The grind of stone on stone imposed an abrupt, heavy silence on the room. That sound heralded Potter's arrival and for all of their bravado and pride, none of them wanted to draw the powerful young wizard's attention. Edward was uncomfortably reminded of the change in atmosphere when Voldemort entered a room.

Potter's footsteps seemed to echo like thunder through the room, though realistically the sound was nothing impressive. It was the promise of another one of them being led off to die that made them loud.

All of them waited tensely as he walked past them, frozen like frightened deer, too afraid to move for fear of drawing attention.

Edward tensed fearfully when Potter stopped in front of his cell and give him a considering look. Then he sighed in relief when those unnerving green eyes turned away and landed on Alexius.

"Carrow, today is your day I think." Potter said.

"You'll pay for this, Potter!" Carrow suddenly screamed, flinging himself at the bars.

The once powerful lord now looked half-mad, his eyes wide and wild.

"The Dark Lord will destroy you!" Carrow continued screaming.

"Maybe." Potter allowed, clearly unimpressed. "I won't say it's impossible for Voldemort to win in the end despite everything I'm doing, but you won't be around to see it."

Then he sent a stunner at Carrow, sending him unconscious to the ground.

A quick transfiguration opened a hole in the bard and Potter levitated the unconscious wizard out, leaving the dungeon without another word.

Edward took a seat on the block of stone that acted as his bed in this place and put his head in his hands, trying to calm his racing heart. He wasn't sure how much more of this he could take.

Later. Ravenhead Spire.

Carrow hadn't died well, Harry thought, not that it was much of a surprise. Privilege, snobbery and an unwarranted sense of superiority rarely made for a strong spine. At least his death had been useful, he was getting better at directing the magical discharge of unwilling sacrifice. He already had some new ideas for tweaks that could be made to the ritual circle that would prevent the energy from lashing out unpredictably. Hopefully he wouldn't need more than two or three more attempts to get it just right, he had a limited supply of victims after all.

Amelia Bones had recently used her now well-staffed, well-trained, and well-equiped DMLE to conduct a raid on Knocturne Alley and clean out a lot of the illegal activity going on there, leading to quite a few people being given free housing in Azkaban. That was good for Magical Britain and slightly inconvenient for Harry. A lot of the people he had in his dungeons had liked hanging around Knockturne Alley after all. Carrow, for example, had been snatched as he was performing one of his twice weekly visits to the brothel down there. Given his position, you'd think that the slimy bastard would have had a mistress or two to cater to those needs, but he had apparently developed a liking for one of the whores working there. The funny part was that this particular whore was a muggleborn. Carrow couldn't even keep his own prejudices consistent.

It was unfortunate that aside from Nott, Parkinson and Carrow, none of the other problematic lords had displayed any easily exploited habits. Their manors were warded too well for him to break through without alerting them, so he couldn't just break in whenever he pleased.

Etal could slip through the wards as if they weren't there, the peculiar magical properties of a quetzalcoatl allowing him to remain undetected. The Anti-Portkey Ward prevented them from abusing the shit out of that unfortunately and the quetzalcoatl was far too recognisable anyway. If anyone saw him then it would be game over.

It was a moot point now anyway. His targets had scattered all over Europe, setting themselves up in places where it would be problematic to abduct them. The two that had gone to Durmstrang and suddenly taken up teaching especially.

He was surprised that none of them had gone to Albania. Before dying, Nott had squealed about the rumors and suspicions that he and his friends had about Voldemort hanging around Albania. Maybe he had underestimated how relieved they were to have their master gone?

Harry wished that he could do something about Voldemort directly, but no magic that he knew would be able to contain a wandering spirit. If he went to Albania himself, the only thing he would achieve would be to alert his enemy and perhaps spur him to action. He had no choice but to leave him be.

Truthfully, now that Voldemort's minions had made a run for it, he was at a bit of a loss as to what to do. The remaining Horcruxes remained elusive, with his only possible lead being Bellatrix, to whom he couldn't get through official channels because visits to maximum security prisoners had a mandatory Auror presence. Frustratingly, Sirius' escape from Azkaban via Animagus transformation had spurred the Ministry to add addition protections to the island that would block any repeats of that stunt. His own raven transformation would have been perfect for infiltrating the place stealthily.

He would have still risked it if only he could be sure that any potential Horcrux in Bellatrix's keeping was the last one. It wouldn't matter what the Ministry knew if that were the case.

Would be nice if Dumbledore did something too. He thought with a scowl before shaking it off.

From what he could tell about the old wizard's movements, which was admittedly not much, Dumbledore was mostly snooping after him rather than Voldemort. And he was slower than dripping honey in winter about even that. He could have been an Ent in Lord of the Rings with how slow he was, they could even call him Slowbeard.

Slowbeard they call me, because it takes me at least three months to react to anything. He snorted at the thought.

Harry had a sense that things were coming to a head, and that the days of going unchallenged were running out.

There was still at least a month and a half before they could head off to Egypt. Being the principal force behind Magical Britain's new werewolf legislation meant that he had to stay and get everything running and that took time. At least Lupin would finally be useful for something, being both a werewolf and a good organiser that could be relied on to not do anything egregiously stupid.

The communication mirror business had also taken off and been an immediate success. That was another venture that took up - and would continue to take up - enough time that he couldn't just leave the country yet.

The timing was actually pretty lucky, as they would likely be in Egypt when the shitstorm with Fleur's pregnant grandmother broke out. He was still having trouble reconciling the fact that he'd gotten a woman pregnant, even if it was a veela.

Maybe he would get lucky in Egypt too and find some ancient spell or ritual to deal with disembodied spirits? They had been big on Necromancy after all. That would be terribly convenient but Harry didn't hold out much hope for it.

The grind of stone on stone interrupted his thoughts and Harry smiled as he sensed Luna's familiar aura.

The petite blonde hurried over to him and burrowed under his coat, jamming her cold hands against his skin.

"Brrr," She said with a shiver. "Why do you have the Windbreaker disabled?"

"Standing on top of a tower just isn't the same without the wind." Harry replied, amused.

"But you've been up here for hours." Luna pouted up at him. "Aren't you cold?"

Harry blinked. Had it really been that long? He'd come here after sacrificing Carrow, finding this open space to be more conducive to shaking off the grasping reach of the Void than his gloomy laboratory below, but he must have really gotten lost in thought.

Instead of answering, Harry drew on what Light he could reach here. It was winter in the Arctic Circle, which meant essentially permanent night, but there were always the stars.

Luna sighed happily as his body and magic heated up the air around him and rubbed her face against his chest.

"Better?" He asked, petting her hair and exerting iron control over the sudden impulse to fuck her raw on the spot. Light was so much more troublesome than Dark, but at least its side-effects were short-term and obvious. Etal liked it too, though he wasn't sure if that was just him being a snake and liking it warm or some quetzalcoatl instinct that he couldn't articulate properly.

"Much." Luna chirped and then giggled. "But I think we woke up Pokey the Impregnator."

Harry groaned in despair. Luna, Fleur and Dora had saddled his penis with that nickname in the wake of him getting Fleur's grandmother pregnant, the giggly wenches.

He supposed it could be worse. They could have been pissed instead of amused. It was honestly the only reason he wasn't more annoyed by the ridiculous nickname.

"No, you woke him." Harry said sternly. "Now you get to put him back to sleep."

Luna squealed with laughter as he tossed her over his shoulder and made his way back into the tower, to the rarely used bedroom he had installed into it.


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