Volume 1: Harry Dursley at the Muggle School

You are a wizard Harry

You are a wizard Harry

For real!?

Harry was 6 years old when his adoptive father told him he was a wizard. That very morning, he had just performed his first act of accidental magic and had spent the day trying to explain that it wasn't his fault he ended up on the school roof. The teacher didn't believe him, scolded him severely, and then said she would talk to his parents about it.

Later, he had tried to confide in his cousin Dudley Dursley (who loudly displayed his joy that classes had been interrupted while the firefighters brought him down). But he had called him a liar. That shouldn't have surprised him. After all, he himself had trouble believing it. Despite everything, his cousin was his best friend and his disbelief had hurt him.

On the surface, everything seemed to oppose the two children. Dudley was as fat as Harry was thin. Despite his good intentions and all his efforts, Dudley struggled in all subjects, while Harry was at the top of his class without making the slightest effort. Harry couldn't stand staying still and loved sports, whereas his cousin preferred calmer activities like reading or video games. However, over time, despite their differences, the two boys raised together from a young age became as close as twin brothers. Indeed, since the death of his parents, Harry had been living with his cousin.

Harry insisted, but Dudley did not believe him any more and tried to change.of subject or playing a game. This made Harry angry. He called his cousin a stinking fatso and ran off to the other end of the playground.

It was the first time Harry had gotten so seriously angry with his cousin. It was all Pierre's gang's fault, Harry thought. If he hadn't chased him, none of this would have happened. He didn't know how or why he ended up on the roof, but instinctively, he felt that the two events were connected. It was as if his wish to get as far away as possible had been granted. Harry's family wasn't very religious, but as a good conservative English family, they went to church for big occasions like Easter or Christmas, and snippets of Christian religion had eventually reached young Harry. He wondered if God had heard his prayers.

And then Pierre's gang made a good scapegoat for the resentment he had been accumulating since that morning. They kept bothering him and his cousin. Dudley because he was fat and Harry because he was the top of the class. So it was easier to hate them a little more than to think about what he had just said to his cousin and how to apologize.

In the evening, when his father Vernon Dursley came to pick them up from school, as promised, the teacher intercepted him and asked him to come to her office. Harry and Dudley had been left in the playground.écreated, but the two children were too angry to play together. Harry therefore had no other distraction than to worry about what the teacher was telling his father.It was really too unfairsaid Harry. He hadn't done anything and everyone was rejecting him.

Once his father left the teacher's office, he went to fetch his two children and brought them home. Usually, during the journey, he would ask them to tell him about their day, and the trip was rather cheerful. But this time, the journey was marked by silence. Thoughtful for Vernon, worried for Harry, and resentful for Dudley.

Once safely behind the thick walls of his house, his father declared that he had to talk about what had happened today. Harry immediately began to proclaim his innocence with loud cries and incoherent sentences, while his cousin discreetly tried to sneak away to his room and his beloved console.

But to the great surprise of the two children, Vernon announced that he believed Harry and that he had something to tell both of them. He told them that there was a parallel world to ours where wizards lived. Harry's parents were also wizards and apparently, Harry was one too. Thanks to the innocence of childhood, they immediately believed their father and immediately forgot their resentments to shower the poor Vernon with a flood of questions that he was hard-pressed to answer. He ended up telling them to wait for their mother's return, who knew more than he did about the wizarding world.

The children took refuge in Dudley's room (which was the largest) to passionately talk about the mischief they could get up to with Harry's new powers. Harry was determined to find out if he could fly and regularly jumped on the bed or from the top of his cousin's wardrobe to test his hypothesis. Meanwhile, Dudley was planning to sneak out at night without his parents' knowledge to fight crime and save the world from a mad scientist, like in the comics his parents regularly bought him.

oOoOoOo

That evening Harry woke up and left his room. It was something Harry did practically every night, for as long as he could remember. In front of his parents, he pretended he needed to go to the bathroom. But the truth was that every night, he felt a sense of confinement that only a 5-minute walk in the corridors could calm.

Passing by his parents' room, he heard sounds of conversation. Curious, he listened closely:

Are you sure he's like them? Maybe he just lied. Petunia asked hopefully.

My darling. How do you expect him to have done that all by himself? And then it's not the first strange incident. Do you remember when he was younger and you (…)

I never want to talk about it again.

Faced with his wife's sudden hostility, Vernon decided to change his approach. In any case, he also preferred to forget the first year Harry had spent with them.

My dear, I too was disappointed to learn about it. I had hoped that by raising it properly, its oddity would eventually disappear. It disgusts me just as much as it does you. But turning a blind eye won't change anything. It is not a human like us.

Harry stopped listening and went back to his room silently.

oOoOoOo

The weeks passed and little by little Harry forgot that he was a wizard. Or rather, it just became something ordinary to which he no longer paid attention.

At Dudley's insistence, during the first days following the revelation, he regularly tried, but without success, to master his powers or provoke another incident. But as often happens at that age, he quickly grew tired and moved on to something else. Especially since his parents had just enrolled him in the local football club and he quickly became obsessed with the sport. This sudden passion for sports brought great congratulations from Vernon, who saw it as a sign that he might become a normal child (and besides, it was his favorite sport).

To his aunt's great surprise, he did not particularly feel anyCuriosity about the wizarding world or about her biological parents.

Unlike Dudley - who found the realization of his wildest dreams in the existence of this world - he never tired of asking his mother for details. The many questions from her son, to which she had no answers, made her regret all the more having fallen out with her sister. Her son's passion for the magical world reminded her of her own a few years earlier.

For as long as she could remember, her parents had favored Lily at Petunia's expense. Especially her mother, who on her deathbed had apologized for never having managed to love her. Of course, they had never been mistreated. Her life is not a teenage fanfiction. But not receiving any signs of affection while her sister was showered with them had left its mark.

And yet, Petunia had tried very hard to make her parents love her. She did everything to be as perfect as possible. She curbed all her desires and adopted the behavior of a model little girl. She did her best, but it was never enough all eyes systematically turned to her indomitable sister. Even that of the handsome boy with the brooding gaze who lived in the poor neighborhoods on the other side of the river.

Petunia had been watching him spy on them for weeks. At first, his presence intrigued her. Then it made her fantasize. She thought he was in love with her and dreamed at night of their first kiss (and other things more daring that her parents would have considered far too shocking to mention in front of a girl her age).

But after a while, she got tired of this little game and started finding it more disturbing than exciting (seriously, never do that, it's cringe and not romantic at all). However, the worst part was that the day this idiot finally declared himself, it turned out he was yet another admirer of Lily. Lily, who was still too young to appreciate the attention of boys. Anyway, even when she reaches the right age, her so-perfect sister will hardly appreciate the numerous attentions she will receive (it must be said that many came from men much older than her).

Lily gave her a chance to explain herself, but Petunia knew her sister and knew that she was barely restraining herself from giving her a sample of her famous fiery temper. And that's when he spoke the words that forever changed Petunia's destiny:

— You are a witch, Lily

After a period of disbelief, Petunia became fascinated by this magical world. She secretly hoped to receive a letter from Hogwarts the following summer and be able to leave for a wonderful world far from this family where she was not happy. Of course, her hopes were dashed, but thisIt was not that which was the most painful for her. The worst was the reaction of her parents when, a few years later, Lily finally received her letter.

From that day on, Petunia became completely invisible to their eyes. Previously, due to her good results and exemplary behavior, Petunia sometimes managed to earn a compliment from her parents (especially after Lily had made yet another mistake). But from that day on, they were completely indifferent to her presence. From that moment, the only words her mother addressed to her were to tell her how unfortunate it was that she wasn't like her incredible sister.

Before, Lily and she were not very close, but they liked each other and often played together. From that day on, they hated each other. Petunia didn't know exactly who had started the war between them (in hindsight, she would admit that it was probably her), but it was clearly Lily who had won it.

Lily could not use magic outside of school, but thanks to Severus, she had all sorts of potions at her disposal to make Petunia's life a living hell during the school holidays, which she systematically chose to spend at home. Needless to say, her parents always took her side, saying that they were just innocent pranks. That she lacked a sense of humor and should stop complaining about trivialities instead of enjoying the little time when that dear Lily honored them with her presence. Petunia eventually had no choice but to bow down to her sister and satisfy her every whim. She spent all the following school holidays in fear and pretense. Fortunately, from the moment Petunia changed her attitude, Lily gradually lost interest in her.

Years later, Petunia learned of her sister's death by reading the letter that accompanied young Harry. Her first reaction had been anger. By what right did Albus Dumbledore impose on her the responsibility of taking care of her sister's child? She still had a say in the matter. Damn it, we're talking about raising a child, not watering a plant. It hadn't occurred to her that she might not have the time, the means, or even the desire to raise another child.

Especially a wizard child. She remembered all too well what she had suffered as a child because of Lily's nature and did not want to inflict that on her young son for anything in the world.

Just after her marriage to that Potter, Voldemort's supporters had killed her father and had written on the walls with his blood that this is what would happen to all mudbloods who didn't know their place. For once, she met people who weren't swooning over her sister, they had to be even crazier than her. Albus said in his letter that the war was over, but that the supporters of thisVoldemort was still after his son and he needed to be protected.

His family would still be in danger because of his sister, but as long as his sister's offspring had extra protection thanks to the blood connection, everything was fine. After all, they were only Muggles. It wasn't as if their lives were as important as that of a wizard.

But don't worry, you will have infallible magical protection.he wrote. As infallible as the one Lily had provided to her father? As infallible as the one that Potter had provided to Lily? At that moment, Petunia recalled a phrase Severus had uttered during an argument with Lily (which she had witnessed quite unwillingly): "Dark magic will always be more powerful than white magic. Dumbledore can offer no effective protection against the Dark Lord."

If Severus was right (and to her great regret she admitted that this had always been the case), her family was now in danger without it changing anything for her nephew.

In addition, the child undoubtedly had other relatives on his father's side. Her sister had briefly confided (with her usual modesty) that her husband was related to all the richest and noblest families in England, while she had to settle for a mere drill manufacturer (she hadn't said it like that, but that's how she felt). Why not entrust him to them? Anyone would be more competent than her to raise and protect him. Especially since, contrary to what Albus claimed in his letter, she doubted it was her sister's will (and even if it was, that didn't make it a good choice).

Then she realized that her sister was dead and that she would never have another chance to reconcile with her. Then that the child would soon wake up and ask where his parents were. Who were these strangers and this strange place where brooms don't fly. She let out a final sigh and got up, resigned to assume her role. As usual, she would do her best, but it would not be enough. At the very least, she promised herself to do everything so that her precious Dudley would not have to suffer from the situation.

During the year that followed, life went on until she was approached by a stranger with green eyes. After their strange encounter, although the stranger had not uttered a word, she magically realized that she was repeating with Harry the pattern she had known when she was younger.

No, thinking back, she treated him much more harshly than her mother had ever done. And she was dragging her husband and Dudley along with her. She suddenly felt pity for the child. He was like her. Unlike Dudley whoSoliciting her all the time and spending his time playing, Harry did everything not to disturb her and to please her. He even offered to help her with household chores. This revelation suddenly made her feel a surge of affection mixed with pity and guilt for Harry.

From that moment, she had made every effort to treat her two children fairly. As usual, she would do her best, but it would not be enough.

Returning from school

As usual, Petunia came to pick up her two wonderful boys at the school gate. And as usual, she couldn't resist the urge to greet them with a big kiss that embarrassed them in front of all their little classmates.

So what? She had to make the most of it before they got too big to let it happen. Then they walked home. Usually, she took the car, but it was a beautiful sunny day and, exceptionally, she had free time today. But on the way, she noticed that Harry seemed sullen. She turned into the park, and while Dudley ran on the slide, she took her other son aside:

Did your day go well, my darling?

Yes, mom.

You look sad. Did something happen at school?

He seemed to hesitate to answer.

Well (...) it's that (...)

Yes, my darling. Said Petunia to encourage him.

The teacher said that the name is actually called the family name because all the members of a family have the same name.

Yes, my darling. So what?

Why don't I have the same name?

You have the same name as your parents. (…)

But you are my parents. Harry interrupted her before she could finish her sentence.

Yes my darling. But (…)

So I can use the same name?

His request exploded within her an ocean of contradictory feelings. Of course, there was joy, but to her great shame, also rejection. She didn't want him to have the same name as her. She forced herself to think it was solely out of loyalty to her deceased sister.

Listen my dear, it's an important decision. I need to talk about it with your father.

But I am your son.

Finally, she gave in:

Okay, if you want.

Then he joined Dudley and she watched them play together, like two brothers. She just hoped that Vernon wouldn't mind.

Byway

Why do I have to go to this school? Asked Harry

Listen, we already talked about it. Smelting is the best school in the area.and it is out of the question that you receive a subpar education. Vernon replied

But all my friends go to public school.

You'll make others. I met my best friends at Smelting.

But it's not the same. And then it's much too far.

For the tenth time, it's only 40 minutes by bus. There's no point in whining, I won't give in. You know I can't stand laziness.

It was July 31st and it was Harry's birthday. And as usual since the start of the school holidays, Harry was trying to convince his uncle to send him to the local school. He hoped he would give in for his birthday, but in vain.

Come on, my darling, don't sulk. Instead, enjoy your birthday. Here, open one of your presents. Aunt Petunia said with forced enthusiasm.

Pff, okay mom.

He was about to leave the table to comply when an owl flew in through the open window and dropped a letter in front of him. He opened the letter, read the beginning, then angrily addressed his uncle:

No, are you out of your mind? Smelting at a push, but there's no way I'm going to freeze my butt off in Scotland.

Petunia and Vernon paled upon hearing that.

oOoOoOo

A week later, the whole family was gathered in the living room and nervously awaited a visitor. At the exact moment the clock struck 9:00, the sound of the doorbell was heard. Aunt Petunia immediately went to open the door and hurriedly let her visitor in so that no one would see him.

Wow!! Exclaimed the two children in unison upon seeing the shaggy giant who had just entered the living room. He gave them a warm smile and said.

Ha! Harry, I am happy to see you again. The last time I saw you, you were just a baby. And you must be Dudley, I understand your birthday was last week. I brought you a cake. I made it myself.

The giant had apparently confused Dudley and Harry, but the latter said nothing, as the half-melted chocolate cake seemed hard as a rock. Dudley looked for a way to refuse without offending the giant, but he was spared by an intervention from his father.

Dudley says thank you and puts the cake in the fridge. You just finished eating. You can try it when we get back. He said, casting a suspicious look at the cake.

The man seemed more like Santa Claus than an ogre, but his mother had warned him that things are never what they seem in the wizarding world.

Yes, Dad. Dudley hurried to obey.

After a few exchanges of rather cold pleasantries, the family got into the large family sedan and followed Hagrid, who guided them on his motorcycle to a street crowded with buildings. Hagrid stopped his motorcycle and led them to the entrance of a seedy alley that made the Dursleys extremely uncomfortable. For a reason he hadn't understood for the past 5 minutes, Vernon couldn't stop thinking about the grant application he needed to fill out as quickly as possible.

The others also seemed to want to leave. All except Harry, who was curiously watching his parents and asked:

So, are you coming back?

Go back where you can see there's nothing here? Exclaimed Vernon angrily, thinking of the thousand urgent things he should be doing instead of following this strange stranger in the center of London.

Ben in the pub? Hagrid is waiting for us. Answered Harry with confusion. HAGRID! Something strange is happening with my parents.

Hagrid stopped his conversation with the pub owner and rushed to the entrance.

Yes, of course. It's the Muggle-repelling charms that are working. Here, Tom gave me this for you. It should immunize you against the protections he placed on the bar.

Hagrid handed the 3 Dursleys a business card in the name of the Leaky Cauldron. As soon as they had the card in hand, they saw an old PUB appear in place of the disreputable alley and immediately forgot any desire to leave.

You could have warned us. Or given us this map earlier. By the way, what did you do to our brains with your weirdness? For all we know, it’s dangerous for children. Vernon exclaimed angrily.

Before Hagrid could answer, Petunia intervened:

It's fine, Vernon. Let's hurry up and get in. The sooner we finish these errands, the better it will be. And I remind you that you agreed to let Dudley come with us.

He really wanted to come. And then, he's a man, for heaven's sake. Not a fragile little thing.

Without a word, Hagrid led them to the back room where he tapped on 3 bricks of the wall with his umbrella.

To the astonishment of all the family members (with the notable exception of Petunia Dursley), the wall opened and revealed the craziest avenue he had ever seen. Dudley was, of course, overexcited, but even Harry, who pretended a certain indifference, exclaimed and looked around with envy.

The only one to whom this show did not bring any pleasure was Vernon Dursley. To please his son and not offend Harry, he made an effort to hide it, but all his abnormalities frightened and disgusted him. To give himself courage, he looked at his wife who, he knew, sharedHis point of view. As much as he loved this kid as his own, right now he would have given anything for him not to have inherited this oddity.

They walked up the alley towards Gringotts. Dudley kept asking questions and loudly expressed his joy while Hagrid answered with obvious pleasure as Harry listened with fascination, trying awkwardly to feign indifference. Their parents, on the other hand, remained silent and worried. The more they saw, the less reassured they felt. And their fear only grew when, at Dudley's request, their escort described increasingly dangerous animals with evident passion.

They progressed quietly like this until a stranger exclaimed on the threshold of Gringotts:

But it's Harry Potter!

Before he could understand what was happening, the crowd gathered at this strategic crossroads surrounded Harry. Most just wanted to thank him for freeing them from Voldemort. Others wanted to see what was causing all the commotion. But some went further. Unable to do anything, he was jostled several times and had to deal with requests for autographs or hysterical thanks.

Someone even took the liberty of cutting off a handful of her hair, while Petunia spent an insane amount of time styling it with a mountain of gel (genetics or not, she wouldn't allow any of her children to be unkempt).

Vernon was trying to push away all the crazies who were attacking his nephew and Aunt Petunia was screaming, but they only added to the confusion. Using his size, Hagrid managed to weave through the crowd and reach Harry. He pulled him out by putting him on his shoulders and then immediately went to take refuge inside the bank where the Goblin security forcefully repelled all the undesirables. The rest of Harry's family followed.

What was that! Vernon immediately shouted once they were safely inside the bank.

Hagrid released Harry, who was immediately engulfed in an embrace by Petunia Dursley. Due to a misplaced sense of masculinity that was Vernon's pride, he pushed her away, saying he wasn't a little girl, but it had done him good. He regretted it when, out of revenge, she pulled a comb and hairspray from her handbag and set about re-styling his hair. Since she had decided to treat Harry like her son, she had developed the habit of always carrying hairdressing essentials with her. Neither she nor Harry knew that his first act of accidental magic had been to cast a spell on himself to make his hair unmanageable. Indeed, at the age of two, the boy had noticed that the only time she took care of him and touched him without a look of disgust was when she was doing his hair before church.

OooOoOo

After some shouting and confused explanations from Hagrid, the Dursleys understood that Harry was famous for having defeated you-know-who and that since his disappearance from the wizarding world, a whole bunch of legends circulated about him. And this despite regular denials from Dumbledore and the ministry. Vernon reluctantly agreed to calm down and follow Hagrid to the bank counter.

Where are we? And what are these creatures? Dudley asked.

The teller looked at him with a dark eye upon hearing the question, and Vernon then stood in front of his son (although he was not much more reassured than him). The goblin then said to him in a calm tone:

No need to worry, sir. Sir?

Mr. Dursley. Vernon replied in an unsteady voice.

The goblin continued calmly without ever raising his voice:

As I was saying, Mr. Dursley, there's no need for you to worry. Unlike wizards, goblins do not tolerate rudeness or aggression. We will not harm these young men. However, I advise him to mind his manners if he wishes to do business with us. We are not creatures, but members of the proud Goblin race. To answer your first question, young man, you are at Gringotts Bank. The safest place in England (at this phrase, Hagrid winced but said nothing). How may I assist you?

Vernon did not tolerate anyone criticizing his son in any way in his presence, but he also did not tolerate rudeness. It was not a way to treat customers, but after the hysteria he had just escaped, he understood that it was the perfect way to treat wizards. Moreover, he appreciated the impeccable three-piece suit worn by the goblin (finally, people who dress decently).

Finally, a place where order and seriousness prevailed, he thought.

Hagrid continued:

We would like to access Harry Potter's vault. Said Hagrid in his loud voice that echoed throughout the bank's hall.

It's Harry Dursley. Harry reminded irritably, as every time someone got the name wrong.

In fact, it is indeed Harry Potter, Vernon clarified.

I'm sorry, my dear, but we never officially made the change. It's just due to lack of time, you understand. But for us, you are Harry Dursley. Petunia explained while stroking his hair (at the same time, she hoped it would fix his hair).

Yes, of course, mom.

Anyway, he didn't care about something as insignificant as his name. And he was convinced of his mother's good faith. So why did it hurt so much?

The teller, for his part, merely asked them with indifference:

Does Mr. Potter have his key?

Uh yes, of course, where did I put it? Hagrid mumbled.

Under the disapproving gaze of the goblin, Hagrid began rummaging through his numerous pockets before handing him a small gold key.

Very well. Please follow me. The goblin asked politely.

OooOoOo

A few minutes of travel by cart later, the Dursleys found themselves in front of Harry's vault.

Why on earth do we have to make such a trip to a bank? Vernon asked, barely holding back from vomiting (he had always hated roller coasters) and thinking that he should reconsider his opinion on goblins.

I am sorry for the discomfort of the journey, but unfortunately replacing the carts with a more suitable means of transport would be seen as a scandal by the very conservative wizarding society. And safety and geological constraints impose a tortuous route on us.

Mentally cursing the wizards and their strange taste, Vernon said:

Let's not talk about it anymore.

Dudley, having inherited his father's weak stomach, was also holding back from vomiting, while Harry and Petunia tried to hide that they had greatly enjoyed the walk through the depths of Gringotts. Hagrid, on the other hand, said nothing. He felt guilty about what had happened at the entrance of Gringotts because of it. However, the constant remarks from that old prune Vernon were starting to irritate him.

The goblin arrived in front of what seemed to be a large metal plate stuck on a stone wall, inserted the key into a tiny gap that appeared no different from the other small holes scattered across the plates. At that moment, a light appeared which, after their stay in dark undergrounds, blinded them. When their eyes became accustomed to the light again, they discovered in front of them a mountain of gold coins stretching as far as the eye could see.

Vault 713 of Mr. Harry Potter

Vernon Dursley certainly liked this bank a lot.

OooOoOo

Some time later, Vernon was at the bank counter to exchange his Muggle money for galleons.

Despite Harry's very generous and very frequently repeated offer since he had started queuing to exchange their money, Vernon insisted on paying for his own expenses in the wizarding world. When he learned that Harry's school supplies would cost hundreds of those gold coins, he agreed to use the ample inheritance from thekid (who would have thought that his incapable parents were so rich). But he refused to be supported by his nephew (Vernon was a proud man).

When it was his turn, he let out a huge yelp of surprise when he was asked for only 5 pounds in exchange for a galleon.

I thought his coins were gold. Exclaimed Vernon

The Goblin in front of him took on an offended look and responded with a dark glare.

Of course they are made of gold, sir. Would you question the honesty of the Goblins?

Of course not, Vernon hastened to say. But in that case, how is it possible to get it for only 5 pounds? At the current gold rate, it must be worth 10 times more.

Ah, I see. Be aware that for obvious reasons of confidentiality, economic exchanges are prohibited between the wizarding world and the Muggle world. Goblins and wizards are forbidden from buying or selling gold, or any other goods on the Muggle market. Despite their very small number, wizards possess much more gold than Muggles. Imagine what would happen if the great wizarding families were allowed to speculate freely on the Muggle markets. Such an influx of gold would be impossible to hide from the general public and the existence of magic would be exposed.

There is also a spell on the galleons that will allow ministry agents to trace back to you if your galleons were to circulate in the Muggle world. However, to allow Muggle-borns to make their school purchases and wizards to do tourism in the Muggle world, Gringotts is exceptionally authorized during the summer holidays to convert a little less than 500 galleons per person into pounds according to an exchange rate set by the ministry.

How is it that wizards have so much gold? Are they able to turn lead into gold? Vernon immediately asked, stars in his eyes as he looked at his nephew.

The goblin replied with rancor.

The wizards of the Flamel family are capable of it, but the wizards owe the majority of their gold to the plundering they imposed on our nation until the Goblin Liberation Wars. For centuries, they forced us to give them a share of the production from our best gold mines.

Realizing that he had touched on a sensitive subject, he quickly took his galleons while thanking the goblin.

Finally!! exclaimed Harry and Dudley in unison, who found nothing interesting in this bank since their parents had informed them that Harry would not be allowed to access his vault until he came of age.

To avoid another riot on the Gringotts courtyard, the goblins offered them to leave through a discreet entrance, but insistedheavily on the fact that it overlooked Knockturn Alley. Hagrid hastened to accept and the Dursleys, not knowing what Knockturn Alley was, made no objection.

They crossed the unsettling street glued to Hagrid, who initially tried to reassure them but gave up after Dudley pointed out human shrunken heads displayed in a shop window. The journey didn't last long, but excited conversations regularly reached them. Following the rumor that Harry Potter had been seen on Diagon Alley, the alley's inhabitants had abandoned their usual discretion to boast to each other about the exploits committed during the last war and what they would do to the kid if they managed to get their hands on him. For illicit goods traders, the war years had been an extremely profitable paradise, and they dreamed of taking revenge on the one who had put an end to it.

Once back on Diagon Alley, they did their shopping in silence, and no notable incident occurred (excluding the fact of learning that his wand was linked to Lord Voldemort's).

Once safely back in the Muggle world, Harry immediately turned to his uncle:

Please dad, I don't want to go. I want to go to Smelting.

Crisis meeting at Hogwarts

How is it that he still refuses to come, but really, it's insane?

Come on, Minerva, calm down, even if it's rare, it's not the first time a child raised by Muggles has refused to join our world.

But after all, Albus, he is not a Muggle-born, but Harry Potter. Whether he likes it or not, he belongs to our world.

I completely agree with you, Minerva, but I'm afraid that for the moment, we have no other choice but to comply with his will.

His will or that of his Muggles to whom you entrusted him? It is obvious that they have manipulated him or at least passed on their prejudices about wizards. His decision is based on a distorted view of reality. We must convince him to change his mind.

Dumbledore suddenly looked extremely old.

On the contrary, I fear he has a far too accurate view of our world. In any case, my recent visit to 4 Privet Drive convinced me that his fear of our world is not his main motivation. Just the most effective one to convince his adoptive parents to support his decision.

A silence passed in the office.

Are you sure there is no way to make him change his mind?

None that it would be acceptable to use.

So what are we going to do?

What we do every time this case occurs. Find him a tutor who will teach him the minimum necessary to contain his magic. Thus, he will be able to continue living in the non-magical world without being a danger to them or our secret.

But finally, Albus. It is not conceivable.

And why not? It is far from being an isolated case. As you know, many wizards gave up magic during the last war and refused to let their children join our world. Aren't you the one who complains at every budget meeting about the dramatic drop in the number of students at Hogwarts?

But after all, it's about Harry Potter. If you are right and the Dark Lord returns (...)

I am well aware of that, Minerva, but I think forcing it would be counterproductive. For now, let's just find him a tutor. And I think I know the perfect person for this task.

Thus, shortly before the start of the school year, Remus Lupin arrived at 4 Privet Drive to arrange magic mastery classes with the Dursleys during the weekend.

Back to Hogwarts

Author's note: to fully understand this chapter, it is necessary to remember the following details from the books:

• The prophecy does not explicitly designate Potter as the chosen one. Indeed, Neville Longbottom and Harry Potter were both born at the end of July, to parents who had defied the Dark Lord three times.

• Voldemort knows only part of the prophecy.

• In the books, Harry, Ron, and Hermione discover Fluffy (and thus the place where the stone is hidden) because of a trap set by Malfoy.

Since not everyone is as much of a fanboy as I am, I thought it would be a good idea to remind you before the start of the chapter. Enjoy your reading.

oOoOoOo

My Lord, perhaps we should return another day?

Quirrell, stop your whining and drink this potion.

But my lord, all of this is far too strange. The absence of the survivor without the slightest explanation, the announcement during the banquet of the place where the stone would be kept, these trials are far too simple. Even first years could pass them.

Of course I noticed it, I'm not an idiot. Dumbledore is setting a trap for us.

In that case, we should turn back, shouldn't we? Quirrell asked desperately.

Stop talking nonsense! Have you lost faith in your master's powers? Do you really think I couldn't thwart the spells of that Muggle lover? The stone is behind this wall of fire. To regain my powers, we have no choice but to move forward and discover what Dumbledore has in store for us.

Quirrell, being more afraid of his master than of Dumbledore, obeyed the orders and entered the mirror room. It was the first day of the school term and, as his master demanded as soon as night fell, he rushed to the third floor to steal the stone.

But in the early morning, it was a dejected Quirrell who returned to his quarters.

My master, it's not a problem, we will try again tomorrow evening.

You are definitely way too stupid. What would be the point of trying again? The magic of the mirror is far too powerful to be broken or fooled. Especially in a place like Hogwarts where it can draw from an almost unlimited reservoir of ancient magic. Only a being who does not wish to use the stone can take it. It's well thought out. I wouldn't stop you from trying again, but know that it's a waste of time.

So what are we going to do, master?

Think. Haven't you noticed that something is missing in this room?

What, my lord?

A trap. The room contained nothing that was meant for us. So who was it for?

And why such simple tests, even (..)

But Voldemort interrupted him:

Stop! You've already said it and Lord Voldemort has little patience with (...)

But Voldemort interrupted his tirade in the middle.

Eureka! You might not be as useless as I thought. You were right. His tests are meant for first-year students. One in particular.

Which master?

To the chosen one. Voldemort replied as he pondered.

To Potter? But he's not even at Hogwarts. And nobody knows where he is.

No, there was another. Dumbledore is the only one who knows the entirety of that cursed prophecy. What if I was wrong?! What if both children have a role to play. Quirrell, I know what we are going to do. We will use young Neville Longbottom to retrieve the stone for us. Dumbledore wants to test his chosen one. Very well. We will help him with that. In the coming days, we will use our influence on the Malfoys to push Longbottom to discover the third floor.

Very well, master

We will also try to find out what happened to Harry Potter. I doubt he is involved in Dumbledore's plans, but I feel it is important. With luck, we will discover that he ended up dying from my Avada. That would be very useful for undermining the morale of the wizarding world once I have regained my power.

Kids' nonsense 1

During Professor Lupin's first class:

Dumbledore got you a waiver. Exceptionally, you are allowed to do magic outside of school, so you can practice outside of the classes you will have with me. But be careful. This is only valid on Privet Drive and you must be very careful that no Muggle sees you. It is extremely important. And this concerns you too, Dudley. You must not talk about magic to anyone.

Yes, we understand. We swear to never speak of it.

The two children swore with their hands on their hearts.

oOoOoOo

A few moments later

Hey four-eyes, is it true that you have magical powers?

Who told you such nonsense?

I knew it. Dudley, you're just a big liar. We're going to tell everyone that mommy's big baby is a big liar. Liar, liar, liar

Wingardium Leviosa

What! Ah! Bring me down!

Sorry, I didn't hear that?

Bring me down!

I believe there is a magic word for that, but I don't know which one anymore.

What, but what are you talking about?

Steve, you idiot, he talks about: 'please'

Please let me come down and I will never make fun of you again.

But no, you idiot! I really don't know how to bring him down gently. Do something, I won't last much longer.

oOoOoOo

A few minutes later

Okay listen guys, you must not talk about it to anyone. If it gets out, we'll be in big trouble.

Yes, we understand. We swear never to speak of it.

Swore the three brutes with their hand on their heart

oOoOoOo

A few moments later

I hope you are proud of yourself. You are responsible for the biggest breach in magical secrecy in the last 10 years. 5 obliviators had to work full-time for 3 days to fix your mistake. Thanks to you, for the first time in its history, our family had to deal with justice. Yelled Petunia.

And I'm not talking about the brain damage these anomalies must have caused to these poor people by meddling with their memory, Vernon Dursley added.

And all that for what? To show off with your powers. Do you think that just because you have powers, you're better than others?

No. I didn't tell them anything. I didn't want to show them. It was Dudley who tattled. The child defended himself, sobbing.

Don't blame Dudley. It was you and no one else who decided to show them your powers.

It's not fair.

And you think it's fair that you have powers and not others? You must take on the responsibilities that come with them.

But I don't want his powers. It's not my fault if I have this anomaly.

Petunia, feeling she was about to crack and spare Harry from any punishment, ordered him to go to his room. She had always been very lenient with her children. She regretted indulging their every whim, but she couldn't help it. However, she knew she shouldn't give in this time and had to punish Harry severely.

The image of her sister and her friend Snape came to her. If she gave in, he would start using his powers against other children again. Perhaps even against Dudley. She had to prevent that at all costs by being firm from the start.

Once Harry had left, Lupin, who had witnessed the whole scene, had a hard time refraining from intervening. He didn't think it was right for Harry to be punished more than his cousin. But above all, he was shocked by the way Harry had referred to his powers as an anomaly. Until now, he thought his student was just unhappy about having to spend his Saturday afternoon studying. He had never taken his complaints about magic seriously.

Magic was a part of him. A wonderful part even. How could he deny it? But if there was one thing he hadn't changed since his school years, it was that when it came to addressing unpleasant topics, he was the most cowardly of Gryffindors. He told himself that it wasn't the right time and that he should talk about it later. That he needed to think about what he would say or learn more. But in the weeks that followed, he kept postponing the moment to talk about it, until he more or less forgot about it.

Lesson with Lupin

Did you know James?

Yes, I knew your father well. Lupin replied, who still did not accept that Harry called his father James.

Could you tell me about him? What was he like?

Doesn't your aunt ever talk to you about it?

She talks to me about Lily. But as soon as I ask questions about James, she changes the subject.

Well, he looked a lot like you. He was a good and courageous man who knew how to see beyond prejudices. He declared nostalgically whileThinking about how he had included him among the marauders despite his difference.

Wasn't it an arrogant little bully full of prejudice who spent his time harassing my mother and everyone who tried to associate with her, in order to force her to sleep with him? Harry immediately asked, trying to contain his emotion.

Who told you such nonsense? Lupin immediately took offense. But upon reflection, there was only one possibility. So he added:

I thought your aunt never talked to you about your father?

She never talks about it when she knows I'm there. He corrected with mischief. The boy definitely would have had his place in Slytherin. James would have had a heart attack. And Lily would have given her husband a well-deserved slap for daring to think ill of their son.

So why does she think that? Asked the boy with a lot of hope on his face.

Apparently, he was not as indifferent to his biological parents as he wanted to make believe. How on earth was he going to be able to answer her? He couldn't bring himself to tell her the truth. He was so young.

I don't know, but it's totally false. Well, it's true that your father tended to be abrupt and didn't get along with Lily's friends, but he never harassed anyone. It was always limited to some amusing prank and childish quarrels that faded over time. The truth is that we had a good laugh.

Like with Servilus

Yes, like with Servilus. No, wait, that's not what I meant.

But from that moment, he refused to believe his explanations and acted as if the subject was closed. He couldn't believe he had been tricked by an 11-year-old kid. But as a good Gryffindor, Lupin persisted. He didn't want him to keep that image of his father. He wouldn't let him leave until he listened. And like a good Slytherin, Harry eventually gave in:

Okay, but only if you answer another question without lying to me.

Okay, whatever you want?

What does it mean to sleep with him? What did my father want to do to my mother?

As a true Slytherin, he pretended to give in. Lupin would no longer make the mistake of believing him innocent. If he wanted to play this little game with an experienced marauder, then he wouldn't be disappointed. He began to tell him in great detail what James wanted to do to his mother.

A few minutes later, Petunia saw Harry arrive at her house in tears and run to his room. He was followed 10 minutes later by a completely breathless Remus Lupin who was shouting that he was sorry.

Lupin had to face the facts: Harry wasn't pretending to be innocent this time. He was only 11 years old after all.

Kids' Nonsense 2

Author's note: I have significantly modified this chapter because after publication I realized that I didn't like it.

oOoOoOo

You're going to see the gnomes, sex education classes are awesome. The teacher picks a guy and a girl at random, then asks them to strip naked in front of everyone and we can have a good laugh making fun of them. A tall 14-year-old was explaining wisely to Harry's group of friends in the schoolyard.

But what nonsense. Do you really think we're going to believe that? Replied Harry.

Oh yeah, you don't believe me. Hey Jérôme, is it true or not that they show us how to put on condoms in sex education class? He shouted to another 14-year-old student, standing back in the schoolyard.

Harry, like the other sixth graders, recognized him. His portrait was regularly displayed in the school hall among other students who had distinguished themselves. The detractors said it was because he was the principal's son, but the truth is that he totally deserved his place as the best student of his year. Despite his introversion and his small number of friends, he was known for his frankness. He wasn't the type to make up stories to mock the little ones. And even less with a small-time thug like Jeremy. He replied as he stepped towards them:

Huh? Uh! Yes, of course.

What is a condom? Asked one of the youngest.

It's a thing that debauchees put around the penis before committing sins, replied the very serious Jérôme.

Do you believe me now, kids? Added a very proud Jeremy.

But why are they teaching us this? Asked a little girl named Sylvie with visible concern.

Jeremy didn't even need to invent a credible lie as Jérôme was quick to respond:

The school has no choice, it is a course imposed by the government.

But that's horrible. Sylvie exclaimed. Jérôme, pleased for once to have an audience interested in what he had to say on the subject, then continued:

According to my father, it's because of a Freemason conspiracy to spread perversion, shamelessness, and homosexuality. In public school, they do it later, but dad says that if you have to do it, you might as well do it as early as possible.

For me, there's no way I'm going to let that happen. Harry protested.

Why are you so ugly? Jeremy asked.

Ha ha! Dying of laughter. But seriously, we can't accept that.

Harry is right. Supported Dudley.

What can we do? Sylvie asked.

We just have to all refuse to go to class. If we all disobey, they won't be able to punish us. Harry replied.

We could do like the protesters on TV. We make a banner and block the entrance to the school. Added Dudley.

Hey! You don't have the right to do that. Jérôme objected.

Go fuck yourself, Jérôme. There's no way we're accepting that. Replied Dudley.

I will tell my father. Jérôme indignantly said before leaving.

Thus, two days later, it was a sixth-grade army pumped up and equipped with smoke bombs, whistles, and a two-hour detention on Wednesday afternoon (a day normally without school) that was pushed, with difficulty, into the biology class by exhausted supervisors. The poor teacher silently recited a prayer to the patron saint of underpaid civil servants, checked the regulations to see if it was possible to retire 15 years early, and then began the lesson with fear in his stomach.

30 minutes later, everyone was yawning in the room while the professor delivered a boring explanation about how the ovaries work. In fact, it's like a normal class, thought Harry as he fell asleep (he had spent a lot of time last night preparing a banner that was unnecessarily cluttering his bag).

oOoOoOo

Two months later, Harry finally asked with a lot of timidity.

Mr. Lupin, may I ask you an indiscreet question?

Yes, go ahead. Replied the lycanthrope curious to know what was bothering him. It was the first time his student had shown such shyness.

Harry then began to stammer:

Well, you know, you are often sick and then maybe it's a coincidence, but you don't get sick just anytime, it's always at a specific time of the month and then you're always in a strange mood just before and then (...)

He then stopped listening to what his student was telling him. He didn't need to. He had already experienced this scene dozens of times. The first time with his father, in fact. Except that he had been much quicker than his father to understand. And while they only saw each other once a week.He is really very intelligent.thought Lupin. In any case, he had already heard this beginning of dialogue a thousand times. He decided it was useless to let him beat around the bush any longer.

The two wizards said at the same time:

Yes, I am a werewolf.

Do you have your period?

They looked at each other shocked, then exclaimed again at the same time:

What?

What?

oOoOoOo

Author's note: I dedicate the character of Jérôme to Amélie Oudéa-Castéra. A heroine far too underestimated who set the record straight by reminding everyone that the only community that has always threatened the values of the republic is the bourgeoisie. The community promoting racist, reactionary, and authoritarian values is not the workers, nor the Muslims, nor the wokes, but the bourgeois. When looking at sketches from the 80s, it seems that previously, it was obvious to everyone, but decades of media propaganda have passed since then.

Halloween at Hogwarts

Once alone in his office, Quirrell sat in silence and waited. After a moment, unable to stand it any longer, he spoke.

Master, I (…)

But he was abruptly interrupted by a voice coming from his turban.

Be quiet, I'm thinking.

Quirrell fell silent and merely struggled against the sleep that was overcoming him. The day had been long. Already on his master's orders, he had to get up early to smuggle a sleeping troll into the castle using a potion of the Draught of Living Death. Then he had to show himself all day so that he could not be suspected of being responsible for what was about to happen. Of course, he had to do all this despite Snape's constant surveillance. Not to mention his master who was drawing on his magic to influence the minds of the young Longbottom's friends and ensure that the trio ended up in an isolated place during the banquet.

Normally, once the troll was released near the place where the mudblood had taken refuge and after ensuring that the other two teenagers knew where to find her, he should have been at ease. He did not understand why his master wanted to assassinate the three Gryffindors. Nor why he had to use such a convoluted method. How would their death bring them closer to the stone? But he did not dare ask his so hot-tempered master.

Quirrell, you are really stupid. I did not wish for their death. Well, yes, but I wanted them to retrieve the stone for me first. This troll was only meant to speed up Dumbledore's plans for young Longbottom. Now, the stone is of no use to Dumbledore anymore. Tomorrow, he will destroy it.

Master, but how?

We share the same body and you are a poor Occlumens.

Silence fell again.

Master, if the stone is no longer there (...)

Idiot, we cannot leave right after the destruction of the stone and the death of that counterfeit chosen one. The old fool is not stupid enough not to make the connection. No, we will stay until the Easter holidays. Then we will use the curse to resign without causing further suspicion towards us. But in the meantime, we will try to gather as much information as possible about the true survivor. Since the stone is no longer available we will use his blood. Quirrell tries tofind a discreet rental near 4 Privet Drive for the Christmas holidays.

Defense Against the Dark Arts course

So Mr. Lupin, where is he?

Calm down, Dudley.

I am sure he is in that cupboard.

Don't touch that.

Excuse me.

It's nothing, replied Lupin with a big smile in front of the child's impatience.

Next to him, Harry seemed very eager to leave. It always surprised him that of the two cousins, it was his student who was the least interested in magic. With these thoughts, he continued.

As I warned you during our last lesson, I think it's important for you to have at least some knowledge in defense against the dark arts. Indeed, even if you do not wish to integrate into our world, it is possible that during your life you may encounter a magical creature. And unfortunately, according to the director, it is highly likely that one day a new war will shake the wizarding world. It is therefore important that you acquire the right reflexes to have against the most common magical creatures. I therefore encourage you to be particularly attentive to these lessons. Not only could they save your life one day, but they could also allow you to save the lives of your loved ones.

Lupin paused to observe his students. He noted with satisfaction that the last sentence had finally allowed him to get the full attention of his most unruly student. Well, technically, he was his only student.

He resumed.

According to the official program, we should have started by learning the disarming spell and other basic self-defense spells, but I discovered a boggart in my house last weekend and thought it was an opportunity not to be missed for you to practice. This creature is normally addressed at the beginning of the third year at Hogwarts. But don't worry. The spell to repel it is extremely simple and completely within the reach of a first-year wizard, but first, could you briefly summarize the chapter on boggarts that I asked you to read for today?

For me, the boggart is a type of ghost that takes the appearance of our greatest fear.

That's very good Dudley, but I would have preferred it if Harry had answered.

The boggart is a type of ghost that takes the appearance of ourGreatest fear.

It lacks originality, but that's the idea. Nevertheless, I must point out to you that for a wizard, a boggart and a ghost are two completely different things.

Do ghosts really exist?

Yes Dudley, and in the wizarding world, it's even a relatively common phenomenon. But let's not get sidetracked.

A boggart is a magical creature whereas a ghost is the imprint of a deceased wizard. But a boggart does indeed correspond to certain representations that Muggles have of ghosts. Moreover, most Muggles who have encountered a boggart think they have come across a ghost, which greatly facilitates the work of the Obliviators.

What are ghosts really like? Have you ever encountered any? Do all wizards become ghosts? What does it feel like to pass through them?

Lupin was beginning to regret having exceptionally allowed Dudley to attend their class. On the other hand, it was nice to have a student eager to learn.

Mr. Dursley, I fear that if you really want to see a Boggart in person, you will need to curb your enthusiasm. But for your information, ghosts look like normal human beings except they are translucent and they fly. The Hogwarts castle is known for its large number of ghosts, and I have therefore encountered many. Even if they feel nothing, ghosts find it very impolite to be walked through, so I do not know what it feels like. However, one of my classmates who accidentally walked through Nearly Headless Nick told me that he felt an intense cold. However, I think it is an experience that cannot really be described. One must live it. And if we finish early enough, I will answer your other questions over a cup of tea.

Seeing that Dudley was about to speak again, he hastily added:

And yes, I would tell you why he is called Nearly Headless Nick, but for now, I have to stop your cousin from running away from my classroom.

Ah! Ah! I only did it once. It's okay, I understand, I won't do it again.

You did it 3 times!

The other two times don't count, you caught me before I managed to get out.

Mr. Potter, do you really want to extend the duration of this class?

My name is Dursley, not Potter. And it's you who keeps talking about something else. I'm absolutely fascinated by the test thing.

The boggart Harry. Dudley murmured.

Pity, but save me from these two obsessives? said Harry, miming a prayer. Lupin didn't even try to hide that his student's antics made him want to laugh. After the initial surprise, the two children wereultimately very endearing.

5 points for Ravenclaw and 5 points deducted from Slytherin. Declared Lupin with a smile.

You are aware that I still find this point system completely ridiculous and that we haven't even been divided.

Totally. That's even what is amusing, Mr. Dursley.

This time, it's Dudley who stifles a laugh.

Okay, let's get serious again. I will teach you the spell to face a boggart. Repeat after me: Riddikulus.

A few minutes later. They were all set to face the boggart. Harry, slightly anxious, stood in front of the wardrobe containing the boggart, gripping his wand with all his strength. Dudley pretended to be a cheerleader, which helped lighten the mood.

Mr. Dursley, are you ready? One!

No, I'm not ready, I need to go to the bathroom. Tried Harry

Unperturbed, the marauder who had seen others before continued.

Two!

But it's for the big job.

Three!

Lupin opened the wardrobe and stepped away. Immediately, a Petunia with an expression of pure hatred distorting her features came out of the closet. She turned to Harry and her hatred turned to disgust.

You monster, you ruined my life and my family's. You should have died with your alcoholic parents in that car accident.

The woman continued her insults, but Harry didn't even try to cast the spell. He was crying his eyes out, whispering "sorry Aunt Petunia, I'll try to be good, but don't send me back to the cupboard," and Lupin, dumbfounded, then noticed that the dresser had taken the shape of the cupboard under the stairs at the entrance of the Dursleys' house.

Having seen enough, Lupin stepped in front of the boggart, which took the form of a moon, and shouted, "Riddikulus."

The boggart vanished in a wave of smoke.

As soon as the effect of the boggart ceased, Harry seemed to reconnect with reality and fled to his room without saying a word to anyone. The other two made no attempt to stop him and wondered what had just happened. Just as Lupin was about to break the silence to ask Dudley for an explanation, Petunia Dursley entered their classroom and angrily asked:

What did you do to Harry?

That's exactly what I wanted to ask you. Retorted Lupin angrily.

Repressed childhood memory

Harry was 3 years old and he was crying his heart out without being able to stop. In front of his eyes, his aunt was struggling to fit a small mattress into the cupboard under the stairs.

He did not want to sleep in the closet. He did not want to be locked in with the monsters that, in his child's imagination, inhabited those dark corners.

He knew he had been naughty, but no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't manage to follow the rules. He knew he shouldn't soil his sheets or wake his parents in the middle of the night... But how could he stop having that nightmare with the green light and the woman screaming? How could he not cry when Aunt Petunia yelled in rage upon finding him wet in the early morning? How could he not scream in turn when, one day, his aunt got so angry that she left him like that all morning, confined to his room and refusing to give him breakfast?

His aunt and uncle were right, he was a monster. But he didn't want to go into the cupboard. And he was so hungry.

Fortunately, the nightmare ended and Harry woke up with a scream. It took him several minutes to remember that he was 11 years old, perfectly clean, and in a large, bright room.

After the boggart scene, he was so ashamed that he ran to his room without a second thought. Once in his room, to avoid thinking about what had just happened, he started reading the latest volume of Dragon Ball. But overcome by fatigue, he eventually fell asleep and had that nightmare. What the hell was going on? Why had the boggart taken that form? His greatest fear couldn't be Aunt Petunia insulting him. And why had he reacted like that? And why did his damn subconscious refuse to let him move on and sent him that damn nightmare? It couldn't have really happened? His mother would never do that? Right?

But her thoughts were interrupted by knocks on her bedroom door.

Harry, are you awake, can I come in? Said the voice of his adoptive mother through the door.

Yes mom.

She entered the room and sat on Harry's office chair. Harry noticed that she was nervously rubbing her hands.

Hum Harry, I would like to talk to you about what happened this morning.

There's nothing to say, Professor Lupin must have made a mistake and brought me another strange creature. I don't know what it was, nor why it did that, but there's no point talking about it for 150 years.

Harry, I'm sorry. I didn't know you remembered how I treated you back then. I thought you were too young to remember.

Why? What did I do wrong? Harry asked with asmall voice

But nothing at all, my dear. It was me who had a problem. I really don't know how I could have treated you so horribly. I think I just lost it. In one year, I lost my father, my mother, had a difficult childbirth that left me sterile, and I had to give up my job as a typist. I had to take care of Dudley with the constant fear that the protections set by Lily weren't enough and that one of Voldemort's supporters would come to kill him. Do you know what it's like to live constantly in fear? To dream at night of finding your son dismembered. To hear again the screams of your father being tortured. To jump at the slightest ring of the bell. All because of the choices of my dear sister who never even admitted that she should have consulted us before getting involved in that cursed war. And then someone blew her up, and I inherited you. I was already struggling to take care of one child, and then I was handed an additional burden who kept asking where his mother was, and you started crying, so Dudley cried. And where was my mother?

Throughout this speech, Petunia's voice became animated until it turned hysterical. Then it suddenly dropped.

No Harry, I didn't mean to say that. You are not a burden and you never have been. I love you, my darling. She said, hugging him.

After a moment enjoying the hug from his adoptive mother, Harry asked.

If you really loved me you (...)

No, for the last time, I will not buy you a Game Boy. Video games are too violent and full of sex. They said so on TV.

But Dudley, he does have a computer.

A computer is not the same, it is a work tool. It allows you to learn. There is neither sex nor violence.

Even people banging their heads in frustration

A week later, Harry found a gift package containing a Game Boy on his bed. Despite Harry's hugs, Petunia felt bad. She knew she had to break this bad habit of spoiling herChildren every time she had a problem with them. She knew she was spoiling them. And even if she wasn't entirely sure, she knew that Harry was bottling up his emotions and that it wasn't good. But what could she do? How could she force him to talk about it? In any case, even she couldn't talk about that period.

The idea of seeing a therapist didn't even cross her mind. In her mind, it was the dangerous crazies who went to see a therapist. And anyway, how could she talk about what had happened to a complete stranger? So, as usual, she resigned herself to doing her best while knowing it would never be enough. And so life resumed its normal course at 4 Privet Drive. At least in appearance.

oOoOoOo

Author's note: The beginning of this chapter is inspired by the beginning of the fanfic:Une adolescence à St Brutus .

Kids' Nonsense 3

Author's note: I have merged chapters 12 and 13 into a single chapter 13. Indeed, after publication, I found that chapter 12 was too short and awkward. Moreover, they are too young for the conversation Harry and Dudley were having to be credible.

OooOoOo

But what got into you? Do you realize what could have happened to him if Dumbledore's alarms hadn't gone off? Aunt Petunia yelled.

But I swear to you that it's not me!

Who else could it be? I warn you, I won't let you use your abnormality to ridicule Dudley. You're grounded for two weeks.

Two weeks! But that's not fair. Exclaimed Harry, putting on the puppy-dog face he used to win over his aunt.

No use negotiating this time, I will be inflexible. Go to your room and stay there until dinner.

Harry complied while grumbling. Two hours later, Dudley came to see him.

Sorry Harry, I tried to tell mom that it wasn't your fault, but she doesn't want to believe me.

It's not a big deal, Dud. But don't do it again. You know that as soon as there's magic involved, mom goes crazy and I get all the blame.

But I swear to you that it wasn't me!

Who else could it be? By the way, what was that thing?

I don't know. I'm telling you that someone gave it to me. And the alarm went off before I could try it.

That's it, you met a guy whose face you can't remember whoYou were given a magic object and you brought it back here without questioning it? Plus, I'm sure you did all that just to impress Dylan.

What are you talking about?

Dude, did you really think I was going to believe that you got interested in soccer? You keep watching it like girls watch the big guys when they take off their shirts.

I am not gay. We are just friends.

Yeah, that's it, keep lying to me. Anyway, if you said where you found it, maybe mom would believe you and I could go out. In the end, it suits you well that she punishes me instead of you. Harry replied angrily

Argh! You're as stubborn as mom. You make a great pair, the two of you. He exclaimed, slamming the door to Harry's room.

Kids' nonsense 4

You know you're missing a screw? Asked Harry

It's a probably probable probability. Replied Dudley.

No, but seriously. Do you know what we're risking if Dad finds out that we're skipping classes? asked Harry.

Being deprived of TV for a week? Being scolded by mom? Dude, do you know what we risk if we don't do it? Come on, this might be our one and only chance in our whole life. Dudley replied.

I give up.

Why are you wearing a balaclava? You're crazy, it's 20°C. Asked Dylan

Dylan leaves. Harry has his reasons. Said Dudley mysteriously.

Well, whatever happens, don't let go of my hand. Normally, once in the pub, you shouldn't have any more problems.

Hey, are we going to hold hands like girls? Until now, I've been willing to go along with your antics, you two brothers, but now, that's enough. We're too old to believe in magic.

Oh yes, you bet? Asked Harry

15 minutes later, Dylan was in the middle of the alley shaking his friends' hands as if his life depended on it, terrified of what might happen if he lost sight of his guide. Instead of enjoying the place, he spent his time wondering how he was going to steal the 50 pounds he now owed Harry from his father's wallet.

Final kid nonsense

Harry and Dudley breathed a sigh of relief. They had justmeet Dylan at the entrance of Knockturn Alley.

Harry and Dudley were having fun with the creatures in the magical pet shop when they realized Dylan had disappeared. They had been really careful. Harry panicked when he saw he was missing. In his head, he imagined all sorts of scenarios ranging from finding his friend mutilated by a dark lord to transformed into a slug after eating a candy.

Determined not to lose Dudley as well, he firmly grabbed his hand and ran around asking all the wizards present if they had seen a boy their age with blond hair and a Manchester United-colored t-shirt.

Fortunately, they eventually found him near Knockturn Alley. Harry reached out his hand and exclaimed:

But where were you? Come on, let's go! We're out of here.

But instead of grabbing his hand, he placed a stone in it. Harry then felt a hook seize him by the navel, and everything became blurry around him. Panicked, he didn't notice that he was now squeezing his cousin's hand to the point of hurting him. Finally, the world stopped spinning, but his relief was short-lived because his scar immediately began to burn. His cousin asked in a worried voice:

Harry, where are we? What happened? What are all these graves?

Harry would have liked to answer him, but the pain in his scar was too strong for him to even think of a response.

He heard a dreadful voice scream:

Kill the other.

A flash of green color streaked in their direction and hit Dudley full on.

The cemetery

Harry begged his cousin to get up and run away with him. In desperation, he even began to hit him to wake him up. But nothing worked. It was only then that he noticed he was no longer breathing. He began to cry. He wanted to get up, but something stopped him. He then realized that someone had taken advantage of his distraction to tie him up.

For the first time, he looked around. They were in a cemetery and in the distance stood a sinister castle. It was the middle of a hot summer day, the air was heavy and the sky was black. A storm was brewing.

He then turned and saw a man busy with a huge cauldron. Next to him was something moving, he looked at it.The creature and immediately, his scar exploded with pain. He immediately looked away, but he had seen that this thing had a humanoid shape.

Do not look away and behold your work. See what I have become because of you. A repulsive and weak creature. Because of you, I had to spend the last 10 years in an even more pitiful state. I wandered as less than a shadow, surviving like a parasite by absorbing the life force of the unfortunate who crossed my path. But it ends today. Before sunset, Voldemort will be reborn, more powerful than ever, and to avenge myself, I will exterminate what remains of your cursed family. And then perhaps I will do you the honor of killing you.

Harry did not answer. He was too busy absorbing the horror of the situation and fighting against the pain that throbbed regularly in his scar. But that did not seem to bother the thing that continued its monologue.

You should thank me, you know. I will cleanse your lineage of the impure blood that taints it, as I did with mine.

Harry did not understand why the creature was telling him all this, but he thought that the more time it wasted talking, the better it was for him.

How did you get past the protections?

The fate of your parents should have made you understand that no protection can withstand Lord Voldemort. But I must admit they gave me quite a challenge. The old fool didn't do things by halves. Thanks to your mother's sacrifice and the protections he added, it was impossible for me to approach you or any member of your family. And even less to cast the slightest curse on them. Well, almost. As long as it wasn't aimed directly at you, there is one magic that the blood protection of your mudblood mother didn't stop: love potions.

The idea came to me after remembering that my favorite teacher regularly said that love potions were the most formidable. And there was another flaw: only your family and close ones were protected by your mother's blood.

I just had to make your cousin swallow a dose of love potion and subject the first kid he saw after drinking the potion to my will. Of course, I had to go very lightly, so as not to alert Dumbledore.

I then thought of using them to give you a Portkey. Unfortunately, I realized that even your cousin couldn't bring such an object to Privet Drive without triggering Dumbledore's alarms. So I asked my puppet to suggest an outing far from Privet Drive to that big pig of a Muggle. However, I had no idea he would choose an outing to Diagon Alley. This greatly complicated our plans. Not to mention that, at the same time, we had to secure that place. You can't imagine the complexity of the protection spells we had to deploy just to prevent the Trace from working.

The thing was going to continue, but the man with a turban abandoned his cauldron and declared to them.

Master, the potion is ready.

Finally. Start the ritual without delay. I am eager to get my body back.

Quirrell took the horrible creature and plunged it into the cauldron. The surface of the cauldron became as bright as a diamond. Harry prayed with all his might for the creature to drown. Then Quirrell raised his wand and said:

May the bones of the father, given in complete ignorance, bring his son back to life! The grave at his feet opened and the bones within plunged themselves into the cauldron.

The surface, shiny like a diamond, stirred and a long hiss escaped from it. Sparks flew in all directions and the liquid took on a bright blue color that resembled poison.

Letting out a faint moan, Quirrell pulled from under his cloak a long dagger with a fine silver blade that resembled those used for satanic rituals in the B-movies Dudley was so fond of. Sobs broke his voice as he uttered these words:

May the flesh of the servant given voluntarily revive his master.

He extended his right hand in front of him, then tightly gripped the dagger in his left hand and raised it above him.

Harry understood what he was going to do a second before he carried out his action. He closed his eyes, his eyelids tightly shut, but couldn't ignore the scream that tore through the night and pierced Harry as if he too had been stabbed. He heard something fall to the ground, then Quirrell's anguished panting, and finally a splashing noise that turned his stomach. Harry couldn't bring himself to reopen his eyes, but a glowing red light from the cauldron pierced through his closed eyelids...

Quirrell was moaning in pain, breathing heavily. It was only when he felt his breath on his face that Harry became aware of Quirrell's presence right in front of him.

May the blood of the enemy... taken by force... resurrect the one who fights it.

Harry struggled with all his might, but his efforts were in vain. He was tied up too securely. The moment he laid his hand on him, Quirrell let out a violent scream of pain and moved away abruptly.

This time he tried to take his blood without touching him, but Harry managed to grab the hand holding the knife. Immediately, he let out a scream of pain and the smell of charred flesh spread. Harry couldn't hold on for very long, but long enough for Quirrell's last valid arm to be reduced to ashes. A repugnant smell of burnt flesh that made Harry feel like vomiting spread.

But he stopped paying attention to Quirrell when he noticed that theThe knife had fallen not far from his hand. After long contortions, he managed to cut his bonds and observed the situation. Quirrell was groaning on the ground while a small pool of blood spread from his stump. He was no longer a threat.

Without thinking, Harry rushed to the cauldron and overturned it with a violent kick. Immediately, an inhuman scream echoed throughout the cemetery. Then a black smoke spread there. Harry was forced to breathe a large amount of it. But he didn't pay attention to it, because all of a sudden, he felt as if his scar was being seared with a white-hot iron. His screams of pain almost drowned out the inhuman screams coming from the cauldron.

Then after a while, he began to feel himself leaving. Something was pulling him outside of his body. It wasn't a physical sensation, but something indescribable happening inside him. As if his soul was being tugged. Exhausted, he let it happen and moved forward. He noticed that with each step he took, the pain diminished a little more and the fog grew thicker. He was more than willing to let it happen, but then in the distance, he thought he saw through some sort of veil Dudley and his biological parents shouting at him to resist. With difficulty, he obeyed and turned back. Each step was harder than the last, but each time, he found the strength to continue from the encouragement of his loved ones.

Finally, the sensation disappeared suddenly and the black mist vanished without a trace. Exhausted, Harry collapsed.

Police

Tom Hunt climbed the hill with annoyance. The old cemetery keeper had been calling him regularly for a month because delinquents were supposedly entering his domain. And of course, each time, he found nothing, not even a graffiti. It must be said that Tom took great care to blare his siren for long minutes before parking at the bottom of the hill.

Before moving to the city to pursue his dream (which quickly became a nightmare) of becoming a great investigator, he had spent his childhood in a village very much like Little Hangleton. He remembered perfectly that places like this were often the only ones where teenagers could find a bit of privacy for all sorts of activities. The dead make poor company, but at least they won't go and tell your mother that you spent the afternoon with the shoemaker's daughter.

In short, he had no desire to catch the intruders in the act. He would have gladly told that old drunkard to get lost, but in this godforsaken place where his superiors had exiled him, he couldn't credibly claim he had better things to do.

And to think that the foolishness that had brought him here had been motivated by the deep boredom he felt in what was supposed to be a troubled suburb. He, who dreamed of action and serving the citizens, found himself alternating between night patrols on perfectly deserted streets and random identity checks to meet his quotas of undocumented immigrants or cannabis dealers (most of the people he arrested were not dealers at all, but numbers had to be made).

It had taken him a long time to question his preconceived notions, but after a few years, he had to admit it: his work was as harmful as it was boring. The few times someone came to ask for his help, he was perfectly incapable of doing anything. In the absence of emergency housing and proof, what could he do for this battered woman? In the absence of means to investigate, what could he do against this epidemic of burglaries? What to do to prevent these gangs of youths from killing each other over drugs and terrorizing the population in the process? How to stop them from joining traffickers when the only alternative was struggling between various precarious jobs that didn't pay enough for them to afford their own housing and leave their parents? And when it is common knowledge that half the local cops regularly consume, how to explain to them that drugs are bad? And how to blame the colleagues, when you yourself start wanting to shoot yourself?

In any case, according to his superiors, it was not his role. His role was to fill the prisons with people who had no business being there so that the commissioner could present nice Excel sheets showing how efficient we were. At first, he found the use of this word ridiculous because it meant nothing, but in the end, he understood that his commissioner did not dare to call them effective.

In short, he had arrived in front of the cemetery gate and had to stop letting his mind wander. Mechanically, he pushed the iron and was surprised to find it was closed. How could teenagers have closed the gate? He took the time to look around the place.

Everything was calm. Much too calm. Contrary to what city dwellers thought, the countryside was a noisy place. There, there was no noise, not even a distant dog barking. Without being able to explain it, he got goosebumps. He took out his master key and entered the cemetery. Immediately, he began to shiver. The further he went, the colder he felt. And after a while, he noticed that the graves were covered with frost. How was that possible, it was mid-June? There was something supernatural in the air that,combined with the storm clouds that had been gathering above the city since the beginning of the afternoon, gave the place a gloomy atmosphere.

He drew his weapon, prepared for a duel, and resumed his advance with extreme concentration. His instinct screamed that this place was dangerous, but far from worrying him, it excited him.

It was to experience this kind of adrenaline rush that he had enlisted. After a few steps, he heard a groan. It was so fleeting that he wondered if he had imagined it. Then he heard another groan, weaker than the previous one.

He put his finger on the trigger. Then he pulled himself together and lowered his weapon. Whatever was happening here, it was more likely he would find innocent civilians than zombies. And he couldn't afford another mistake. His colleagues and superiors had covered for him the first time, but now, he was alone. He continued to move forward, alert, when he saw a man with a turban dragging himself in front of him, emitting faint groans in his direction. He sped up and realized that the man was leaving a trail of blood behind him. If it was indeed his, it was a miracle he was still alive.

He tried to talk to him, but he ignored him and continued to drag himself forward. He placed his hand on his shoulder to stop him. He turned around abruptly and stared at him for a long time before fainting with a final gasp. His face was fixed in an expression of pain and his eyes were bulging. He examined the man and then realized that he had just been tortured. He was missing an arm and the wound seemed to have recently been cauterized with a red-hot iron. A repugnant smell of burnt flesh still emanated from it. But above all, he saw that his hand had been cut off and the wound was still open.

He tore a piece of his clothing (which was very strange, he must have been a foreigner) and quickly made a tourniquet for him. Then he tried to call for help on his radio, but only static answered him. He cursed the junk the state provided them and then thought that given the situation, the ministry's stinginess was not to blame. He had to quickly get out of the cemetery to call for help. He ran to the entrance where, by a miracle, his radio worked. He shouted for them to send an ambulance without giving details (knowing that they wouldn't believe him anyway).

Then he returned to the man, half expecting that he had disappeared and realizing that in the end all this was just the product of his overly fertile imagination. But he was indeed there. He made sure a pulse was still present, then delved further into the labyrinth of graves.

In the section where he entered, the graves were more elaborate and the ground began to be covered with a thin icy mist. Most were richly decorated works of art that were the size of a man.Regarding the names, he understood that he was in the section reserved for the Riddles. This upstart family, which had grown rich by speculating on wheat during times of famine, was extremely famous in the region for their detestable character as well as for their end, as tragic as it was mysterious. Even he, who was not from here, knew the story.

Suddenly he had to stop himself from stumbling. His foot had just struck something hidden by a fog that was now as thick as pitch. Bending down, he discovered with horror that it was the body of a child. He searched for a long time for a pulse or any sign of life. However, he had to face the facts. At least, this one bore no wounds or signs of torture. Whatever had killed him, he must not have suffered. He made the sign of the cross, turned around, and had only a few steps to take before he saw it. In the center of a fog-free circle stood a large stone arch marked with runes with a veil floating on the whim of a nonexistent wind. At its feet, the body of another child.

He rushed towards him, praying that he wasn't dead too. He quickly realized that he was breathing. He should have left him there and waited for help, but he didn't seem to be injured. Moreover, his instinct was screaming that he had to get away from the arch at all costs. He grabbed the child and ran to the cemetery entrance without looking back.

He noted in passing that next to the arch was a satanic ritual knife, a cauldron of a supernatural black that seemed to absorb the light around it, and a partially open grave. Later, he would discover that it was that of the last of the Riddles.

Once outside the cemetery, he saw with relief the ambulance arriving, along with his colleagues.

oOoOoOo

The child slowly opened his eyes then suddenly tried to get up. He was prevented by his bonds. He said in a panic:

Where am I? Free me?

Calm down young man. You are currently at the Bristol hospital and you are safe.

What am I doing here? Where are my parents?

Then suddenly, he withdrew into silence.

I would also like to know the answer to his questions, to begin with, could you tell me your name, your age, your parents' phone number, and your address?

He replied in a sketchy manner with an emotionless voice:

Harry Potter, 11 years old, 0160894578, 4 Privet Drive Little Whinging.

Little Whinging, I don't know. Where is it located?

It's in the suburbs of London.

The investigator had plenty of questions to ask, but he didn't know where to start. He was unsettled by the child's behavior. He was used to dealing with insolent young teens, not with children who seemed on the verge of tears. He should have asked Maria to stay. Like him, she was single, but she was a woman, so she would have known how to comfort the boy, thought our inspector, who had plenty of qualities but did not escape the most common prejudices of the 90s. Finally, it was the boy who resumed:

Is the Dark Lord back?

Sorry?

No, nothing.

Did you say the Dark Lord?

Please forget what I said. Declared the boy with what seemed to be fear.

Listen, I don't know who is threatening you, but I can protect you. You must not be afraid to speak.

Protect me? The boy burst into a sinister laugh. I am the danger. My parents died to protect me, and Dudley (...) Dudley! I thought he was dead, but no, I saw him, he was alive. Where is he?

He hesitantly took out a photo of the child that the rescuers had found dead.

Is that Dudley?

Yes. Did you find him? How is he? Is he not injured?

Convinced that the boy was more a victim than guilty (and eager to gain his trust), he untied him.

I'm sorry, he is dead.

To the great dismay of the policeman, the boy began to cry softly. His first impulse was to take him in his arms, but he was not allowed to touch a minor like that. And then what would his colleagues say if they saw him acting like a sissy (Did I mention that he was a cop from the 90s? What do you mean, they're still just as stupid 20 years later?).

Pull yourself together. A man doesn't cry.

I am not a man anyway. Despite everything, the boy forced himself to stop crying.

What do you mean, you're not a man?

The clothes I was wearing, where are they?

In the bedside table, but answer my question. Who told you that you were not a man?

The kid ignored him and rummaged through his jeans until he pulled out a piece of wood, then he made a motion with it and said:

Wingardium Leviosa

To the policeman's astonishment, the empty bed in front of the boy began to levitate and then came back down. At that moment, the investigator regretted having untied theBoy.

You said you were responsible for the death of your parents and that Dudley. What are you?

The ministry has placed a kind of bug on me that alerts them if I use my powers without authorization. They will probably send agents soon to lock me up or something like that. No one will die because of me anymore.

He said that with a detached voice, but everything in his attitude betrayed fear and sadness. For the moment, he was just a broken little boy in front of him and not a demon. Finally, the inspector decided to cast his fears aside and took the boy in his arms. He said nothing, but the child began to cry bitterly.

They remained like that for a few minutes until the child's tears dried up. Tom Hunter inwardly swore to find a way to help the child.

Listen, you must tell me everything you know. I'm sure there is a solution. Tell me what happened last night?

You should leave. The ministry agents shouldn't take long to arrive. If they find you with me, you'll be in trouble. If they question you, say you know nothing.

I'm not afraid of them, kid. I'm a police officer, I know how to defend myself, and I don't intend to let them push me around. And what do you think they can do to me? They can't make me disappear without it being noticed.

On the other hand, they can erase your memory. And whatever they say, I doubt it's without effect to have your brain tampered with. You can't do anything for me.

The child turned around and stopped talking to him. After a moment, he left the room determined to find out more. And that started by getting information on the other survivor from last night. But once at the reception, he saw an elderly man dressed in a long purple robe and with a large white beard asking where Harry Potter's room was. Next to him was a man covered in scars, with a wooden leg and a green eye that looked everywhere with a threatening air. When the man looked in his direction, he froze and tried to look as neutral as possible. He pretended to take a candy from a vending machine and went back where he came from. They were there for the child and although the receptionist had told them that no Harry Potter had been admitted to the hospital, there was no doubt they would find him very soon.

Tom had the impression that the choice he had to make would determine the rest of his life. And yet, he did not hesitate for long. He finally had the opportunity to do what he had joined the police for, and he was not going to waste it. The kid did not deserve to be locked up somewhere in a secret government prison. He was going to force the kid to tell him what was going on and then find a better solution. In the meantime, he had to allow him to escape (whether he wanted to or not).

oOoOoOo

A few hours later in the parking lot of a service station.

So if I sum up, you abducted an 11-year-old child because he convinced you that government agents were going to take him to a secret prison? Asked Alastor Moody to the Muggle he had just immobilized.

Then said like that, it seems ridiculous. Tom Hunter defended himself.

Ridiculous! Why? It's exactly what any good auror would have done. However, you should have expected him to resist and be ready to knock him out. Constant vigilance!

Alastor, I admire your passion for a job well done, but currently, I think your advice is misplaced. And then I like to think that you would have behaved like him in his place. Dumbledore intervened.

Certainly not. I would never have been caught so foolishly by my pursuers. Constant vigilance. You must always have a fallback plan if an enemy finds you.

I don't doubt it, my old friend, but that doesn't say what we are going to do with him. Dumbledore replied.

Do not harm him. It's all my fault. Harry intervened for the first time.

No matter whose fault it is, the code of secrecy is clear. Snapped the old auror.

Certainly, but I need someone to watch over Little Hangleton, and unfortunately, that old Ortis has not proven very effective. If you (...)

But Mad-Eye interrupted Dumbledore:

Have you gone mad? Have you forgotten that you need to keep a low profile until the end of the trial with the Longbottoms and the Weasleys? Keep going like this and you'll be retired before me. Although it wouldn't be entirely undeserved.

Alastor, there are more important things. And once again, there is no connection between the troll I introduced into the school to guard the stone and the Halloween incident.

Keep your lies for the trial and stay in line if you don't want Malfoy to take your place. Retorted Moody.

The child, what are you going to do to him? asked Tom Hunter, interrupting the two men in their argument.

I unfortunately fear that I must inflict the worst punishment on him: take him back to his guardians and then let him endure his aunt's reprimands for skipping school. Finally, as soon as we understand what happened.passed that evening and found his cousin.

Replied the old man.

He is dead. Harry declared grimly.

How so? What happened? Asked Moody with a suspicious look.

The child recounted in a trembling voice:

I don't know. Voldemort ordered the man with the turban "kill the other" and then, I saw a green flash and he collapsed to the ground. I tried everything to revive him, but he wasn't breathing anymore. It's all my fault, I should have (...).

Harry, it's not your fault. Dumbledore interrupted him.

How can you know, you don't know what happened?

Certainly, but I have fought Voldemort often enough to know that you couldn't do anything to save him.

Harry was about to answer, but a pale-faced Moody declared:

Did you just say Voldemort?

I believe we should continue this conversation in a private place, my office for example. Dumbledore decided.

I'm not going to prison? Yet, last time Lupin told me (...) intervened Harry

Professor Lupin. And I confirm that the penalties for willfully violating the magical secrecy code can include imprisonment. But given the circumstances, I am sure that Auror Moody here will conclude that, given the presence of another wizard in the hospital, it is impossible to prove that you are the one who cast the spell that triggered the trace. Isn't that right, my friend?

Let's say I'm considering this possibility.

Then the old man made all three of them apparate, 'accidentally' letting go of Tom Hunter's arm. Tom Hunter was left alone, his mind full of questions to which he would not have answers for many years. He got into his car, which now had a full tank, and drove straight ahead without stopping, intending to disappear for a while.

Harry, for his part, had to recount in detail what had happened that night. It was painful, but at the same time, it relieved him. And he was able to ask the questions that had been haunting him since he woke up in that hospital.

Sir, why couldn't Quirrell touch him without getting burned? Had Voldemort really disappeared? What was that veil?

Calm down, Harry. He said kindly. One question at a time. To begin with, I believe your aunt told you about the protection spell resulting from your mother's sacrifice.

Harry nodded.

Was it him who protected me? Is that why he couldn't touch me?

This is indeed the most plausible hypothesis. Your mother protected you.

My mother did nothing at all. She is dead. And it's petunia my mother.

One does not preclude the other. Despite their differences, Petunia loved Lily. That's why she found it so difficult to make room for you in her home. But don't think you have to choose between your two parents. I'm convinced that Petunia loves you enough to agree to share you with her sister. And you, I think you have enough love for two mothers.

After a few minutes of silence, Harry asked:

And Voldemort. Is he going to come back?

At that moment, he seemed to age 10 years.

I fear so. But let that not diminish your victory. You have greatly weakened him. More than I thought possible. That night, you probably saved hundreds of thousands of lives.

And I condemned another one.

Harry. You are not responsible for Voldemort's actions. It is he and he alone who decided to spread death. Ah. I hear Pomfrey's footsteps in the distance. I think it is time to end this discussion. Please, don't tell her that I delayed your visit to the infirmary so we could have this little conversation. Even at my age, some things still scare me. Angry nurses are one of them.

Harry smiled at the old man with a grandfatherly appearance. Of course, he was going to tell him everything. He, too, was afraid of the school nurses.

Volume 2 Harry Dursley and the Chamber of Secrets.

Platform 9 3/4

Time passed, September 1st arrived, and with it the start of a new school year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

Harry had been waiting for a few hours with a sorrowful look on the Hogwarts Express platform, watching the families coming to drop off their children. What made him look gloomy was not the boredom that this activity should have caused in a 12-year-old child, especially an athletic one. The diversity and extravagance of the families present were quite entertaining. No, what saddened him was that although he refused to admit it, he missed his family.

Like many children present on the platform, it was his first departure for Hogwarts. A new school in an unknown world. A world his adoptive mother had always described as frightening and disgusting. A world that, on the rare occasions he had to interact with it, had only confirmed thewarnings from his aunt. Harry had no trouble admitting that it frightened him, but in the end, not much more than his return to Smelting last year.

On the other hand, he violently rejected the jealousy and the urge to run to 4 Privet Drive that overwhelmed him every time he saw a worried mother hugging her child. In two months, he had had time to grieve and accept the death of Dudley (his adoptive brother). But he still hadn't found the courage to face his adoptive parents.

Despite the numerous warnings, reprimands, and punishments he had received (which at the time he found unfair and exaggerated), he had exposed Dudley to the danger of the wizarding world. Despite the advice of Hagrid, Dumbledore, and even Lupin, he had thrown a tantrum to refuse to go to the only school in the country for anomalies like him. The first time he heard his parents refer to wizards that way, it hurt him internally. Of course, they never treated him like that and always assured him that they loved him anyway. That it didn't change anything and that he had nothing to do with the others (as they liked to refer to wizards). Their reassuring words made him feel better at the time, but over time, doubt grew within him.

Just like Dudley, he had never adhered to the disgust that novelty inspired in his aunt and uncle. But to please them, he had tried, unsuccessfully, to reject his nature.

However, since his encounter with Voldemort last June, he understood their point of view and was determined not to impose his presence on them anymore. They had already suffered enough because of him. And then he was terrified at the thought of having to face them and read disgust and rejection in their eyes. Fortunately, in exchange for his promise to return to Hogwarts next year, the headmaster had arranged for him to spend the two months separating him from the start of the school year away from the Dursleys (while specifying that next year, he would have to return to his aunt and uncle). Harry had been surprised that the headmaster agreed to this, but he hadn't questioned it any further. After all, maybe, as his appearance suggested, he was really a doting grandfather.

Seeing that the departure time was soon approaching, he pulled his cloak over his face to avoid the risk of being recognized, grabbed his heavy trunk, and headed towards the train entrance.

HARRRRYYYY

Before he could understand what was happening, someone grabbed him from behind and turned him around. He then faced Petunia Dursley's tear-streaked face as she hugged him with all her strength.

After a moment, she let go of him and then slapped him violently.

What were you thinking? Disappearing like that, without giving any news. We were worried sick. Are you okay?

Then she renewed her attempt to smother him.

Meanwhile, Verront arrived breathless behind him. He had spent the morning running towards that cursed station since Petunia had convinced herself, upon reading the headlines about the start of the school year, that Harry would probably be at King's Cross today.

Harry noticed that he had changed a lot in two months. He seemed to have lost 10 kilos and dark circles surrounded his eyes. He placed his hand on Harry's shoulder and refrained from imitating his wife. For him, a man should not give in to such impulses, especially in public. Harry, on the other hand, despite his efforts, could not hold back from crying a little.

You are not angry about what happened to Dudley?

Of course not. Immediately declared Vernon.

His aunt let go of him and looked him straight in the eyes before continuing:

Harry, listen to me carefully: it's not your fault. If anyone is to blame, it's me. If I had trusted you, we would have understood that something was wrong when Dudley brought a magical object home. And if I had been less unfair, I would have warned Dudley.

But it's because of me that Voldemort went after us.

Oh really? Did you do something to provoke him? she asked, noting the irony that she was the one asking him this kind of question. But it was probably because of her that he thought that.

Harry was about to reply, but she interrupted him immediately:

And I don't want to hear any more about it. Get that out of your head, that's an order. Anyway, your train is about to leave. She said, giving him a kiss on the forehead.

Without another word, he boarded the nearest carriage as a siren sounded in the distance to urge the last stragglers to board the train. The locomotive started a few seconds later. He then waved his hand towards his adoptive parents, his heart filled with immense relief.

Hogwarts Express

Very quickly, Harry had found an empty carriage at the end of the train and resumed reading his schoolbooks. Normally, he was neither a bookworm nor a teacher's pet (Vernon would have had a fit if that had been the case), but he found Lockhart's books fascinating. He didn't understand what they were doing among the schoolbooks that Hagrid had brought him from Diagon Alley, but he thought they were brilliant. The self-absorbed and appearance-obsessed hero described in the book was simply hilarious. And the exploits he achieved despite his apparent stupidity were more spectacular one after the other.

But he was distracted from his reading when a red-haired girl knocked on the window of his compartment.

Can I sit here? There is no room in the other carriages.

The first thought that comes to Harry is that she was very pretty. Then he thinks and stammers:

Yes of course, Com, hmm hmm, what is your name?

Ginny Weasley and you?

Ha! The awkward question, said Harry to himself. He briefly considered lying, but quickly dismissed the idea. Sooner or later, everyone would know he was Harry Potter. He would have to learn to cope with his burdensome fame.

Harry Potter. He said softly.

She scowled.

Why are you making fun of me? I didn't do anything to you.

I'm not making fun of you. I really am Harry Potter.

But of course. And I am the reincarnation of Merlin. Everyone knows that Harry Potter doesn't go to Hogwarts. And besides, you don't look like Harry Potter.

Oh really? And what does he look like? Asked Harry, who was starting to be amused.

Already, he is much more handsome, he is tall, always well-groomed, and with a smoldering look. Look, they did a portrait of him in Witch Weekly. Ginny replied, taking out of her bag an article cut out from a newspaper titled "Exclusive Interview with Harry Potter." The article was illustrated with a photo of a muscular 15-year-old man proudly showing off steel abs.

But that's just like me.

She gave him a skeptical look.

Okay, I admit it, I am not Harry Potter. I am definitely not up to the legend. I apologize for this bad joke. I don't know what got into me.

It was a bad joke. No, I must be dreaming. You even went as far as giving yourself a fake lightning-shaped scar. You'll get along very well with Fred and George. They're my brothers. They love jokes.

They are at Hogwarts too, how come you're not with them?

I don't want to be with them. As soon as they turned their backs, I ran away. Since then, well last year my brother Ron died and since then my whole family has been overly protective of me, it's annoying.

Oh, I'm sorry about your brother.

Thank you.

A silence settled in the carriage. Then Harry resumed:

Me too, I recently lost my brother. Well, he was actually my cousin, but we were raised together and I considered him my brother.

Isn't it a bad joke yet?

No, I swear to you. I would never joke about that subject.

She was about to answer, but all of a sudden, she hid under the seat while a redhead with a prefect badge passed in the corridor, looking inside all the compartments. Once he left, Harry signaled her to come out.

Who was it? Why were you hiding?

It was my brother.

Again! But how many do you have?

5

Seriously, but does your mother run a farm?

I'm warning you, don't make fun of my family. And then go remove that fake scar. It makes you look ridiculous. Besides, it's ugly.

No, I'll keep it. I think it gives me style. And then I'm sure it will work with someone else. I might even manage to convince a professor who knows.

Of course not.

Are we betting? I bet you that I can make Albus Dumbledore himself believe that I am Harry Potter. Harry challenged her.

Are you crazy? You don't stand a chance.

What are you risking in this case?

Okay. If I win, you will have to do everything I want for a month. Replied Ginny.

Bet held. And if I win, you will have to give me a kiss. Harry said, reaching his hand out to her.

Bet held. She replied, shaking it.

Can you pass me the article? I need to find out more to get into character. Asked Harry

With a skeptical look, she handed him the article. He began to read it, holding back bursts of laughter at regular intervals.

What's so funny?

I just found out that I am no longer a virgin and that I am going to launch my own brand of thongs.

And without further explanation, he burst into laughter in front of Ginny's dismayed expression, who began to wonder if she should look for another carriage rather than stay with a seemingly disturbed boy. But her thoughts were interrupted by the arrival in the compartment of an obviously angry first-year girl who sat down without a word on the bench next to Ginny, followed by a calmer boy who sat timidly next to Harry.

Hey, don't you feel awkward? Could you ask before crashing the party? Ginny admonished.

Why does the compartment belong to you? Replied the cheeky one.

Jenny, calm down. We're sorry. Some Slytherins kicked us out of our carriage and the others didn't want us to stay with them. Can we stay here? Apologized her calmer companion.

Yes, of course. My name is Ginny Weasley, and you? Replied Ginny, who was finally not unhappy to no longer be alone with this strange boy. Moreover, her upbringing had conditioned her to immediately feel solidarity with any enemy of the Slytherins.

I'm Lucas Cross and she's Jenny.

Jenny Nott. Immediately completed the little girl. Does that pose a problem for you too?

Jenny! React Lucas

Nott like the Death Eater? Exclaimed Ginny horrified.

It's okay, the great Harry Potter will protect you from the terrible danger in short pants.

You're with them, aren't you? I should have suspected. That's why you make fun of Harry Potter. But don't worry, I'll leave you among future Slytherins.

Then she left the carriage like a fury.

Uh, what is a Death Eater? Asked Lucas

I don't know, but it looks like the redhead doesn't like them much. They are probably very nice people. Harry replied.

The Death Eaters are the servants of You-Know-Who, declared Jenny.

Oh! Not so nice after all. And so, I imagine that one of the Notts was a Death Eater. Asked Harry.

My uncle was one of the cruelest Death Eaters. Most wizards know someone who was killed or tortured by him.

I'm sure that despite everything, he had a good heart. Suggested Harry, half-jokingly and half to avoid offending her.

He tortured my father until he died because he was a Muggle, then left my mother alive saying he would return when I was born so he could make me suffer the same fate before her eyes.

I am sure he had a difficult childhood.

He was born into one of the richest and most powerful families in England. Replied Jenny.

He must have been punished severely. Harry tried again.

After the war, he got away unscathed by paying bribes. She explained.

No, but don't you see that I'm trying to cheer you up? Help me a little!

The girl relaxed and replied:

He is very ugly.

Well, you see, you can do it when you want. Do you have a photo so we can make fun of him?

My mother gave me one so that I would be on my guard if I run into him.

But you're kidding, he's super hot. If I were gay and a repeat offender psychopath, I would date him. What a shame I'm not gay.

Otherwise, would you at least pretend that I exist?

Oh sorry. So what's your tragic story? Voldemort killed my parents when I was very young.

Oh. I am Muggle-born and I grew up in a loving family in complete ignorance of the war. I discovered two months ago that I was a wizard and that my best friend Jenny was too.

No, but you're not making any effort to integrate into the wizarding world either. Said Harry.

Don't answer, Lucas. We accept you anyway, Jenny intervened.

Ah no, I don't agree, at least. Eek! What is that? Harry shouted in a very unmasculine voice.

It's a rat. It must be a pet, it has a collar. Oh, it's so cute. Look, it's coming towards you. Replied Lucas

Take it away, it's disgusting.

Are you afraid of rats? Asked Lucas.

No. But move him away. Harry replied with obvious bad faith.

So who is it that doesn't make an effort to get used to the wizards? Raya Lucas

It's me, but get him away quickly. Harry replied hastily.

Come on, come my darling. We're going to find your owner. Croutard, is that it? Said Lucas, reading the name on his collar.

After Lucas's departure, Harry relaxed and Jenny asked him:

By the way, what's your name?

Harry Potter

No, but it is a serious question.

And it was a serious answer.

Really?

Really.

Really? Really?

Really Really Really Really power to infinity.

So you have, you have a scar?

Harry pushed back his fringe so that his scar was clearly visible.

Wow, so crazy.

Once Lucas returned after giving his rat back to Ginny, they spent the rest of the day laughing the three of them in the carriage and eating the ton of sweets that Harry bought when the trolley witch passed near their compartment. They got into the boat together, taking them to Hogwarts, and while marveling at the view before their eyes, they finished forming a solid friendship.

Distribution

Harry Potter. McGonagall's voice resounded after James Peterson had been sorted into Ravenclaw by the Sorting Hat.

Immediately, all the conversations stopped and a heavy silence took over the entire castle, Harry swallowed and didn't know what to do in the face of the suddenattention he was receiving. Fortunately, he regained his senses when his friend Lucas pushed him in the back. He then noticed the astonished look of Ginny Weasley and his nervousness was replaced by a furious urge to laugh.

Now that he managed to ignore the crowd's reaction, he headed towards the Sorting Hat in a relaxed manner. Indeed, personally, he didn't care much about which house he would be in. Since Jenny Nott had been sent to Slytherin, he hoped that he and Lucas would be sent there as well. After all, Lupin often said he would make a good Slytherin.

Once seated on the stool in front of the professors' table, McGonagall placed the Sorting Hat on his head.

Hmm! Yes, very interesting. Slytherin, huh? You do indeed possess many qualities valued by Salazar, but you have too little ambition for this house. No, your greatest quality is the loyalty you show to those close to you, for you, it's better: HUFFLEPUFF

Harry removed the Sorting Hat and headed towards the Badger table, which welcomed him with whistles and applause. Students moved aside to make room for him in the center of the table. As soon as he was seated, his neighbor asked him:

Are you the real Harry Potter?

First Day

The next morning, a tired Cedric Diggory climbed the stairs connecting the Hufflepuff common room to the Great Hall. After guiding the first years to their dormitory, he had spent a good part of his first night as a prefect enjoying time with his girlfriend of the moment in the prefects' bathroom (they are 15 years old and only kissed, so stop fantasizing, you bunch of perverts).

Or rather the jacuzzi the size of an Olympic pool for the prefects. Even now, he couldn't believe that this room existed and that it was reserved only for the 36 prefects and the 4 captains of the Quidditch teams. He had a fond thought for his dorm mates who would have to make do for another 3 years with the communal showers of the Hufflepuff common room and the lack of hot water for the last ones to wash in the morning.

In short, Cédric was tired and hoped that this first day would be quiet. But when he came across a group of first years who were attracting all the attention, he realized that would not be the case. A group of Hufflepuffs stood red with embarrassment at a good distance from a Harry Potter who was proudly walking towards the great hall, sporting a sign that read:

Yes, I have a scar.

No, you cannot see her.

"On the other hand, if you want, I can show you my big d***"

He suppressed a smile, put on his most authoritative look, and headed towards the kid to tell him to stop his nonsense, but he was preempted by the Weasley twins who loudly asked him to take action. In front of Cedric's horrified gaze, he lowered his hand towards his belt before abruptly veering towards his pocket and pulling out his wand, declaring:

27 centimeters guys, I bet you've never seen one this big (I know since the release of Hogwarts Legacy all the streamers in the world have made this joke at least once, but there's no reason I should be the only one who can't make it. And besides, I had the idea first)

oOoOoOo

It was a sullen Harry Potter who finally entered the Great Hall. After a prefect from his house forcibly confiscated his sign, he had to faceLike the day before, to multiple requests. And even those who were more reserved couldn't help but point at his scar while whispering. He liked being popular, but this was way too much. He sincerely hoped that things would calm down over time. As soon as he sat at the Hufflepuff table, his friend Lucas left the Gryffindor table and jumped on him to say excitedly:

So, did you get your schedule? We start with a botany class together. I can't wait to be there. Our first magic class.

Not me. Botany is just gardening with plants that want to kill you. And I hate gardening.

You are even less pleasant than Jenny in the morning. By the way, where is she? Maybe I should go see what she's doing. She always has trouble waking up in the morning.

An older Hufflepuff warned them:

If I were you, I would quickly forget that idea. Gryffindors are not really welcome in the Slytherin common room. Besides, you should go back to the Gryffindor table.

Oh, it's okay, just because we're not in the same house doesn't mean we can't eat together. Harry replied.

It's tradition. And besides, you're not even from the same year.

Well, yes, we are from the same year. Against Harry

Well, no, he's a first-year. I saw him during his sorting ceremony. Explained the Hufflepuff.

Me too, I'm in first year. Harry replied.

Wait, but how old are you, actually? Hold on, if you weren't there last year, is it just because the journalists got your age wrong by a year?

Everyone started listening to them, hoping to finally find out where the survivor had disappeared for a year.

No. In fact, this summer McGonagall had me take some tests and I don't have the level to move on to the second year, so I'm repeating the year.

A second-year student exclaimed:

Seriously?! But you are Harry Potter! Even Crabbe and Goyle didn't repeat the year last year. You can't be that bad?

Before Harry could respond, Jenny Nott sat down next to Lucas, greeting him warmly.

Oh no, Gryffindors are still okay, but not Slytherins. The Hufflepuff exclaimed immediately.

Nice to meet you. I'm Jenny, I'm delighted to meet you too. She said ironically, extending her hand.

Cédric! Tell him to get lost. Shouted the Hufflepuff in return.

What's going on again, baby badgers? You know there are other prefects in Hufflepuff?

Tell him to go back to his table! Replied a young Hufflepuff, ignoring his complaints.

Why?

Well, she is in Slytherin. She must eat with the Slytherins.

This is my friend and she eats with me if I want. Said Harry

Whoa, calm down, badgers. Apart from special events like the start-of-year banquet, I don't think we're required to eat at our house table. Unless she's bothering you, I can't force her to leave.

Cheh! I can stay. Na-na-na-nére! Said Jenny as she started a little dance.I am a professional translator.and to taunt him

I specified 'Unless she bothers you,' so calm down with the venom, viper. However, you should follow her advice and eat at your table. It's important to bond with the members of your house. Especially in the first days. And Snape will soon be handing out your schedules, and I doubt he will appreciate having to look for you all over the hall.

I don't feel like it. She replied with a slight pout.

As you wish. He declared with indifference before going to join his friends.

Is it going well in Slytherin? Lucas asked once he had left.

Yes, very well, and you, how are things going in Gryffindor?

In that case, why don't you want to eat with them? Lucas asked, ignoring his friend's question.

Are you going to start too? And you're not with the Gryffindors either?

Seriously Jenny, do you not have a problem with your cousin?

No, he ignores me. In fact, he ignores everyone. He's a kind of solitary zombie. Besides, he's not in the same year as me.

What is the problem with your cousin? Asked Harry.

He is the son of my mother's brother.

Oh, you mean the Death Eater. The one who…? Well, you know what?

Yes, that one. And there's a good chance that he will follow in his father's footsteps.

You should maybe give him a chance. Replied Harry, for whom family ties were very important.

My mother told me to avoid him at all costs. Even if by some miracle his father hasn't made him a perfect apprentice sadist, she doesn't want to risk the father finding out our new address and trying to finish what he started. In fact, she didn't even want me to go to Hogwarts at first. She wanted us to stay hidden in the Muggle world and let them forget us.

Lucas continued:

You are not the only one in this case. When I said I was friends with you, a quarter of the Gryffindor students told me awful stories. It seems like half of the Slytherin parents killed or tortured half of the Gryffindor parents. Do you see the slicked-haired one over there?

Yes, his name is Draco Malfoy and he's a dirty jerk. Jenny replied angrily.

His father killed the mother of a member of my dormitory, while his aunt tortured his father. As a result, he hates the Slytherins and for him, it's almost a crime to speak to them. It's not just a matter of house, actually.

After this gloomy statement, the conversation shifted to more cheerful topics. As they were about to part from Jenny to go to their first joint Gryffindor-Hufflepuff botany class, Ginny called out to them.

Harry, can I talk to you?

It's true, I forgot. You owe me a kiss. The kiss! The kiss! The kiss!

He began to hum

Harry, I'm sorry for not believing you. I was really foolish. Declared Ginny seriously.

The kiss! The kiss! The kiss!

I will not give you a kiss, so stop it. Said Ginny with annoyance.

Oh why so much hate. Said Harry pretending to cry. Jenny, my Jenny reassure me, am I still the most handsome?

But yes my toad. She's the one who has no taste.

You the future Death Eater, I am not talking to you.

Under this blow she did not expect, Jenny was stunned.

She is not a future Death Eater! Harry snapped.

Yeah! Take that off right away! Lucas urged.

I will not apologize. What I say is true.

But go fry an egg, you hag. Jenny replied, moving towards Ginny ready to slap her, but she was stopped by Cedric who was heading to class with his friends.

You again! Go to class right away, and the next time I catch you causing trouble, I'll give all three of you detention.

It's not us, it's her who has(...)

But Cédric interrupted them abruptly:

I don't want to know. Next time, make sure I'm not around before making a mess. Understood? Now, get out.

Once the prefect and Ginny had left, Jenny turned to her two friends and said:

And you boys, that's nice, but I can defend myself. Then she went to her first class.

Once alone, Harry said to Lucas

She is a tiger when she is angry.

You have no idea. I think this Ginny just made a lifelong enemy.

Once he arrived at the entrance of the greenhouses, a flash blinded Harry then a ball of energy said to him:

Hi Harry, I'm Colin Creevey, it's great here. Would you sign my photo for me?

Harry liked Lucas, but he was starting to get fed up with the Gryffindors.

First potion class

Three days later at breakfast

How are you, Harry? You look awful. Asked Jenny

Mgrahupod. He muttered into the bowl of hot chocolate in which Harry had plunged his head.

What are you saying?

Harry lifted his head from his bowl of hot chocolate.

How can you tell if I look awful without seeing my face?

I am a witch, remember? Jenny replied mysteriously, who had, like every morning, settled at the Hufflepuff table.

He has nightmares every night and wakes up screaming. That's why he's out of it. A first-year Hufflepuff named Peter intervenes.

Huh, that's nonsense. Harry objected, blushing.

If it's true! They even asked the prefect to cast a silence spell on his bed, so they could sleep. Isn't that right, Cédric?

The prefect Cédric Diggory, who was sitting with his friends at the other end of the table, came over to join them and confirmed.

Yes, and by the way, I talked to Professor Sprout about it. She says you should talk to someone about your dreams. Or at least ask for a dreamless sleep potion at the infirmary.

Ah, but that's enough: I'm fine. Leave me alone. What do we have today?

We have our first potions class together with the Ravenclaws. What's the teacher like? Asked the first-year Hufflepuff, aware that it was pointless to press further.

You see the troll who killed three students last year? He was much nicer than Snape. Good luck first years. And repeaters. Added Diggory towards Harry who stuck his tongue out in response.

oOoOoOo

A few hours later

POTTER!

Harry woke up with a start when the Potions professor shouted his name while banging violently on his desk. He had arrived early and had fallen asleep.

Perhaps you will finally deign to answer my question: what is the difference between monkshood and wolfsbane? Snape threw at him with a hateful glare.

Hey, hey, what?

Are you deaf? Or are you simply too stupid to understand a simple question?

No sir.

So could you explain to me the reason why you didn't answer me?

I was sleeping, sir.

You were sleeping. Oh, excuse me for disturbing you. Where was my head to want to impose on the great Harry Potter the low obligations to which the common people are subjected? Just like your father, you think you are above the rules.

Snape continued to monologue like this for a few minutes during which Harry did everything to stay focused. But he was so tired. Without anyone noticing, he gently nodded off until a revelation dawned in his mind and he exclaimed out loud:

But it's you, Servilus!

A deathly silence filled the room. Harry looked at his professor's face. Immediately, a dose of adrenaline pulsed through his veins and made all feelings of fatigue in Harry's body disappear. His survival instinct had spoken: he was in mortal danger and he had to flee.

oOoOoOo

A few hours later

Potter, can you explain to me why our number of points is negative? Cedric Diggory called out to him as soon as he arrived in the great hall.

Before he could respond, the Weasley twins intervened in the conversation.

Let's see, Cédric, a magician never reveals his secrets. Right, George?

Absolutely, Fred. It would be dangerous to put such knowledge in everyone's hands.

Do not try to corrupt our early years, the twins. Cedric replied with a smile.

Us, corrupt the youth?! What an unworthy accusation!

And without proof, moreover. We have a solid alibi. We were throwing dungbombs in the third-floor corridor at the time of the incident.

Ah, that's what stinks! exclaimed Cédric.

Another man of little taste. Replied Fred

You won't leave us alone until you get what you want? Cedric continued.

No. The twins responded in unison.

You know that this year, I am a prefect?

No, we didn't know. Our deepest condolences.

Well, what do you want?

In response, the twins recited the following text with all the solemnity they could muster:

Just pay our respects to the chosen one of chaos

We know how to recognize a master when we see one.

Achieve the feat of making Snape lose his temper

During his first class, no less.

Know that we place a lot of hope in you.

What!? exclaimed Harry, seeing his strange twins bow before him.

And modest too. The two jokers said before returning to their table.

Once the twins had left, Cédric turned to Potter and murmured to him:

I think it means they like you.

Huh!?

In short. Tonight, you take this dreamless sleep potion. And no need to protest.

Okay.

Then Cédric walked away and shouted at him:

And I made you an appointment with Sprout at 8 p.m. I'll let you explain to Snape that you won't be able to be on time for your first detention with him.

Bastard!

First lesson with Gilderoy

Harry was quietly eating at the Hufflepuff table when a whirlwind in a Slytherin uniform sat down next to him. Then she filled her plate with potatoes before starting to mash them furiously.

You know, I think they've had enough. Said Harry.

What? retorted Jenny as she continued to hammer her poor victims.

You argued with Ginny again, didn't you?

No. Well, yes. But she didn't annoy me. Well, yes. But oh stop smiling like an idiot.

Hey. Why me? Lucas is also messing with you. Pointing at the Gryffindor who had joined them shortly after Jenny.

Yes, but he lets me help myself from his plate, so it's fine.

I don't let you serve me, I've just never managed to stop you.

You know that there are plenty of empty classrooms.

We're just friends. Lucas replied, blushing to his ears.

In short, what annoyed you? Asked Harry.

Nothing, I'm not upset. Jenny replied.

It's Lockhart's class that upset him. Lucas replied.

Pfft! He didn't annoy me. I don't care about the remarks of that stupid teacher.

Really, you had your first class with Lockhart. HowWas it? Harry asked, his eyes full of stars.

He is the worst teacher I have ever had and yet, half of the girls in the class are in ecstasy. If you had seen how Ginny was wriggling in front of him.

What, Ginny is being unfaithful to me? She has no right to adore anyone other than me. I am the great Harry Potter, after all.

This made Jenny burst into laughter, temporarily forgetting her rage.

Frankly, you should both try to make peace with her. I assure you she can really be nice. Lucas replied.

Oh my God Lucas not you. Screamed Harry

They got it. They got it. Jenny shouted frantically in front of a Lucas who was increasingly disheartened by the reaction of his two friends.

That Ginny is unfaithful to me is one thing, but how dare you cheat on Jenny, retorted Harry.

We're not in love! Shouted Lucas and Jenny in sync, looking at each other blushing.

After an awkward silence of a few seconds, Harry resumed:

If you would rather tell me how Lockhart's class was? It must have been great. That guy is a legend. No, wait, don't tell me anything. I want to find out everything for myself.

oOoOoOo

A few hours later

Welcome, my young friends. I am Gilderoy Lockhart, renowned adventurer, bestselling author, and winner of Witch Weekly's Most Charming Smile Award. But it wasn't with my smile that I disarmed the succubus terrorizing that village in Lithuania.

He declaredWith a devastating smile that made all the girls in the class squeal with delight (and most of the other boys sigh with exasperation).

Pleased with its effect on his young audience, he continued:

This year, I will have the distinct honor of being your Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher. First of all, I will test your level and see what you have retained from reading my books. Please fill out this questionnaire.

He raised his wand and immediately, the questionnaires on his desk flew to each of the students who spent the next twenty minutes filling them out. Then he collected them and began to read them.

Hmm. Well! You all seem to have a satisfactory level. There are still some surprising answers. Miss Luna, for example, made an effort, but she seems to be very behind. You should reread my books more carefully. If you want, for only 50 galleons, I can ask my publisher to send you the expanded version of my latest interviews in Wizard Weekly. You will then know that my favorite scent is not unicorn trumpet, but lavender. And that the creature I defeated in Transylvania was not a nargol, but a ghoul.

Oh, oh! But here is a perfect copy. We have an expert in Defense Against the Dark Arts in this room. Let's see, but obviously, it's Harry Potter. I should have guessed. You have a lot of potential, my boy, and with some advice from me, you might even become as famous as I am.

It would be an honor, sir.Harry was squirming in his chair like the ultimate groupie.

Oh come on! I hope our comrades won't hold it against me, but to reward you for your perfect results, I'm going to deviate slightly from my original course. Today we will see how to gently push back overly insistent requests from fans.

oOoOoOo

That evening, Jenny and Lucas asked him:

So how was your first class with Lockhart? Not too disappointed?

Disappointed? On the contrary, it was great, he's exactly like in the books. How does he manage to act so well? He's truly a genius.

No, but stop, he is totally incompetent.

But no, it's the best class I've had.

I know you're a fan of his books, but you need to open your eyes. His classes are completely useless. He's a clown.

Are you kidding? This is the first time I've had a class at Hogwarts that I find useful. Honestly, how can you blame him for his classes being useless when we just spent two hours trying to transfigure a spoon into a safety pin?

Yes, all right, I don't see the point, but at least it's magic.

And botany, and potions, and astronomy? We don't do magic either and yet, that doesn't bother you?

Yes, well, okay, but we learn things there.

Yes, but useless things. Once out of Hogwarts, I don't see why I would want to know the position of Mars in the sky. And there's no way I'm touching toxic plants again. On the other hand, knowing how to manage dangerous people so that it doesn't end in confrontation can be useful to everyone. Especially in the context of tension in the wizarding world.

What, but we don't learn that in our classes.

It's because you're not paying attention. There's a second level of reading in his classes. It's like in his books. He pretends to be a self-important buffoon, but in fact, he's super badass. And then think about it? We're in the best magic school in the country, led by the most intelligent wizard of our generation, and Defense Against the Dark Arts is one of the most important courses. Do you really think an incompetent person would be hired for this position?

Lucas and Jenny no longer knew what to answer, but didn't seem convinced, so Harry added:

And then I can assure you that the only Defense Against the Dark Arts class I had last year was much worse. The teacher put me in front of a creature that you normally only see in third year and left me to fend for myself. At least he didn't release dangerous creatures in his class.

There is a second-year Gryffindor who told me that in his first class, he released a cage full of pixies.

Without wanting to offend you Lucas, I don't trust Gryffindors. And the second-year Hufflepuffs told me they just recreated certain scenes from his books as a play.

Detention with Filch

In my day, they would have hung you by your toes. Grumbled Filch yet again.

Harry, who was beginning to get used to the caretaker's reprimands, paid no attention and continued to follow him.

It was the tenth time he had been in detention with the caretaker since the incident with Snape. He had tried to apologize, but Snape wouldn't listen. It even had the opposite effect. Snape accused him of trying to flatter him to get special treatment. In desperation, he had tried to tell him privately during a detention that he didn't approve of his father's foolish behavior or his mother's superficiality. But upon hearing his last words, Snape flew into a rage and was even more unpleasant to him in the following classes (to Harry's great surprise, it was possible). Since then, he said nothing in Snape's presence and tried to make himself forgotten. But that didn't work either.

Several times, he had been on the verge of tears in his class. In front of others, he acted proud, but Snape's classes had become his nightmare. Every time he had to attend his classes with Snape, he stressed all day and even had trouble eating the meal just before.

Now, he was torn between cursing his father, because it was his fault that Snape was taking revenge on him, or approving of his father for having targeted such a despicable being. Damn, it wasn't his fault that his father was an idiot!

In fact, he was seriously considering stopping attending potion classes. After all, what could he do to him?

Give him detentions? Considering the number of detentions Snape was already giving him, he would probably have fewer if he skipped. Every time he made a mistake (and he made them regularly given how stressed he was), Snape accused him of doing it on purpose to draw attention to himself and gave him one.

Warn his parents? If Petunia knew, it would be Snape who would get scolded, not him. And it wasn't Vernon who was going to blame him for not learning magic. On the contrary, he would probably be delighted with the initiative and suggest that instead, he take correspondence courses in accounting (or another serious subject).

Expel him? After all the trouble Dumbledore went through to get him to Hogwarts, it would surprise him if the old headmaster dared to do that.

Not give him his diploma? So what? He had enough money to live without working for several lifetimes.

But the janitor interrupted his thoughts by handing him a broom, a bucket, and a cloth.

Tonight, you will clean the trophy room. It might make you lose the desire to be insolent. And no using magic. I'll be working right next door, and I'll see if you try to cheat.

Said the janitor as he began to clean the corridor adjacent to the trophy room that the Weasley twins had covered with dungbombs of their own making three weeks earlier.

These dungbombs had the peculiarity of reappearing half an hour after the janitor cleaned them up. It took the janitor a week to realize the problem, another week to convince a teacher to fix the problem, and yet another to succeed in breaking the curse.

Even if he found them strange, he quite liked the Weasleys. But now that he knew how annoying it could be to clean up, he found this joke cruel for the caretaker. Not that he appreciated Filch, but he hadn't done anything to deserve that. Not to mention he understood why he was so unpleasant to everyone. The students were extremely disdainful towards him, without him understanding why. Even the teachers hadn't hesitated to belittle him despite Harry's presence when, reluctantly, he asked them for help with those dungbombs. Only that greasy bastard Snape seemed to listen to the caretaker with respect (but Harry supposed it was just out of a desire to punish Gryffindors). He too would be cantankerous if he were treated like that all the time.

But Harry's thoughts were diverted by a pain he felt in his wrist from rubbing with that old rag, the awards stored in the trophy room. He began to look for a way to escape this chore. He examined the trophies and his gaze stopped on a name: "Tom Riddle." This name rang a bell. He searched his memory but found nothing. He stopped rubbing and examined the cup. It was written that this Riddle had received an award for exceptional service to the school in 1944. He thought he must be mistaken. He couldn't know him. Apart from McGonagall and Dumbledore, he didn't know anyone that old.

Get back to work, rascal. I can't stand slackers. Roared Filch

I am not lazy. I just have a sore hand.

Ah! Young people your age, you are too pampered, as a result, you can't stand the slightest effort. I am three times your age and because of little careless people like you, every day, I have to clean five rooms like this one. And yet, I endure it.

Why don't you use magic? You're not punished. Asked Harry.

A huge silence followed this question.

Wait, you can't?

Who told you that I am a Squib? Filch shouted, now clearly angry.

What is a squib?

First flight on a broom

Stand up! Shouted Harry

He watched with surprise as the broom lent by the school zoomed into his hand. He looked around and noticed that most of the other students present were only getting vague jerks from their brooms.

Once all the students managed to have their brooms in hand, Madam Hooch showed them how to position themselves on the handle without risking falling, reminding them insistently that if any one of them caused chaos in her class or attempted to take off without permission, they would be immediately expelled.

Harry found this class ridiculous. Honestly, flying on a broomstick? It's so cliché. Why not a flying carpet? Although that would make more sense. At least on a carpet, there was room to sit and there was no risk of falling.

After an interminable moment reminding them of safety rules (during which Harry had a hard time not laughing as he saw an adult and about twenty children astride a broom), Professor Bibine finally told them to take off by stamping their feet against the ground.

He complied and suddenly all his problems vanished. Forgetting all the previously mentioned safety rules (and the taunts of bibine), he began performing loops under the admiring gaze of his comrades. Even Luna, who usually didn't pay attention to her surroundings, was captivated by his aerial acrobatics.

Harry was made to fly. He had never felt such a sense of well-being. Even after Bibine gave him a detention for breaking the rules, he did not regret his action. Between that and the intervention of Sprout (alerted by his Hufflepuff classmates and Diggory) who had somehow forced Snape to leave him alone, for the first time, he had a good night at Hogwarts without needing the dreamless sleep potion.

In fact, for the first time, he thought that there were advantages to being a wizard.

Special bonus: Funeral

Author's note: This is a non-canon humorous bonus. Enjoy reading.

oOoOoOo

My dearest friends, we are gathered here today to say goodbye one last time to a loved one. Most of us will remember his combat abilities. His fierce spirit that many times turned a poorly engaged fight. But he was much more than an excellent fighter. For me, he was above all a loyal companion.

What are the first-year students doing by the lake with that Viking longship?

Harry brought his Game Boy to Hogwarts without knowing that magical interference fried all electronic devices. As a result, he destroyed his Pokémon cartridge. To help him through his grief, his friends decided to hold a proper funeral for his level 100 Charizard. All the Muggle-borns of his year came to support him during this ordeal.

Huh? Replied the pureblood from Ravenclaw who hadn't understood a thing from this speech.

He was even more perplexed when they placed a red plastic rectangle in the longship and set it on fire.

Dobby

To say that for 5 minutes, he had enjoyed being in this school of lunatics. However, as soon as he set foot on the ground, he was hit with a deluge of lectures about the importance of safety rules from Madam Hooch, then from his head of house, then from Cedric (what did it matter to him? He wasn't his mother). What's the point of teaching us to fly if we're never allowed to do it?

Okay, he might have gone a little too fast and a little too high. And it's true that the hallways might not be the best place for a broom race. But that was no reason to be so harsh.

Fortunately, there had been Jenny and Lucas to support him and rage with him against this injustice (and to secretly have fun with him on the Quidditch field when it was empty). The other first-year Hufflepuffs, those traitors, had clearly sided with Cedric. And to think that Hufflepuff loyalty was praised.

Honestly, what a joke. If safety was really that important to them, they would also limit the use of wands and teach the stairs to stay in place. Somewhere, he knew he was being disingenuous and that he could indeed have broken his neck.

However, he would have to wait until he had finished what he hoped would be his last detention of his entire schooling before considering admitting it. Detention he had to serve once again under the supervision of a Filch who had hated him since their last conversation.

Yet, he didn't give a damn that he was a Squib. Before that fateful day, he didn't even know it existed. But that socially awkward, uptight janitor didn't want to hear anything about it. On the other hand, it's true that it wasn't very smart of him to say that given the size of the castle, only a person with magical powers could manage it.clean and that it was therefore stupid of Dumbledore to entrust him with the position.

Afterwards, he thought that there couldn't be many jobs a Squib could do in the wizarding society. And not many places to live. The few places he had seen in the wizarding world required a wand to get there. Filch must have had no choice but to accept this job or exile himself to the Muggle world. And of course, Filch had understood that Harry wanted to get him fired.

He really needed to learn to shut his mouth. Or at least to think before speaking. In any case, as long as he was in the wizarding world. In the Muggle world, people are much less sensitive. It must be said that Muggle England is not emerging from a civil war, actively fights against racism, and tries to integrate disabled people.

In short, Harry was content to brood over his thoughts while silently scrubbing the classroom floor that Filch had assigned him, so as not to give the caretaker a reason to reprimand him.

After an hour of scrubbing the floor on all fours, his back was hurting. He mentally complained that in Muggle England, this kind of archaic punishment had long been abolished. However, he continued his task when an unexpected obstacle blocked the brush that Filch had given him.

Harry held back a scream, but it was a close call. A creature had just appeared in front of him and was staring at him with its bulging eyes.

The little creature had large ears similar to those of a bat, and bulging green eyes the size of a tennis ball.

Uh... Hello, said Harry, not very comfortably.

Harry Potter, said the creature in a small high-pitched voice. Oh, sir, Dobby has dreamed of meeting you for so long... It is such a great honor...

... thank you, replied Harry

He would have liked to ask, "What exactly are you?" but he was afraid of being rude and instead asked:

Who are you?

Dobby, sir. Dobby, nothing more. Dobby the house-elf, replied the creature.

I am delighted to make your acquaintance, believe me, Harry hastened to add, but I wonder... what is the... reason for your presence?

Well, here it is, Sir, replied the elf gravely. Dobby has come to tell you... Ah, it's very difficult, Sir... Dobby wonders where to start...

"Sit down then," said Harry politely, pointing to a chair that had been unused for ages in this abandoned classroom.

Horrified, he then saw the elf burst into tears. Particularly sobsNoisy.

Sit down! moaned the creature. Never... never ever...

Harry was afraid that the creature's cries would bring Filch.

I'm sorry, he murmured, I didn't mean to offend you...

Offended Dobby! sobbed the elf. Never before had a wizard asked Dobby to sit down... like an equal...

Harry tried to hush him while attempting to comfort him. He stayed there, hiccupping. He looked like a large, repulsive ugly doll. Finally, the elf managed to calm down and stared at Harry with his large, moist eyes with an expression of adoration.

The wizards you associate with must not be very kind, joked Harry, hoping to cheer her up.

Dobby raised his head. Then, without warning, he jumped up and banged his head violently against the wall, shouting: "Bad Dobby! Bad Dobby!"

Stop! What are you doing? Harry whispered as he hurried to get Dobby back on the chair.

Dobby had to punish himself, sir, said the elf who had begun to squint slightly. Dobby almost spoke ill of his family...

Your family?

Dobby is in the service of a family of wizards, sir... Dobby is a house-elf who must serve the same house and the same family forever.

And do they know you are here? Asked Harry with curiosity. Dobby shivered.

Oh, no, sir, no... Dobby will have to punish himself very severely for coming to see you, sir. Dobby will have to slam his ears in the oven door for having done such a thing. If they found out, sir...

But they will notice if you pinch your ears in the oven door, won't they?

Dobby doubts it, sir. Dobby must always punish himself for something, sir. They leave it to Dobby to take care of it. Sometimes they simply remind him that he must inflict some extra punishments on himself...

But why don't you try to escape?

To regain his freedom, a house-elf must be freed by his masters, sir. And his family will never allow Dobby to be free... Dobby will have to serve them until his death.

Sir...

Harry looked at him with wide eyes.

Do you mean that you are a slave?

Not a slave, sir. A house elf.

Yes, that changes everything. Harry replied sarcastically. And you can't use magic to esca(..). Then Harry sadly lowered his eyes. Since you are under spells that force you to punish yourself when you disobey, I suppose if you run away, youDie?

Ah Mr. Harry Potter, the magic that binds us to our masters means that we cannot disobey their direct order. There is no punishment planned for an elf who would run away from their family, because that is completely impossible for us.

Yet, you are here?

My masters did not explicitly forbid me from coming to Hogwarts. Bad Dobby! Bad Dobby! Cried the creature, hitting its head against the wall again.

Okay, I understand, you are not a bad elf, but a very obedient elf. Harry declared hastily, hoping it would calm the magic affecting the creature. Is there nothing I can do to free you? Is there no counter-spell or an elf liberation association I could contact?

Harry Potter asks if he can help Dobby... Dobby had heard of your greatness, sir, but he knew nothing of your generosity...

Everything you've been told about my greatness is just a bunch of nonsense, said Harry, feeling his cheeks burn.

Harry Potter is humble and modest, said Dobby reverently, his large bulging eyes shining with emotion. Harry Potter does not speak of his triumphant victory over He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named.

Voldemort? Said Harry.

Dobby pressed his hands against his ears.

Ah, sir, do not speak that name! He groaned. Do not speak that name!

Sorry, said Harry hastily so that the creature wouldn't make too much noise. I know that many people don't like to hear it.

A wicked sorcerer told his master that Harry Potter had once again faced the Dark Lord a few months ago... and that he had managed to escape him once more. His master does not want to believe it, but Dobby does. Said the elf in a hoarse voice.

Harry nodded in approval and tears suddenly shone in Dobby's eyes.

Ah, sir, he sobbed, wiping his face with a corner of the grimy pillowcase that served as his clothing. Harry Potter is brave and bold! He has already faced so many dangers! But Dobby has come to protect Harry Potter, he has come to warn him, even if he has to slam his ears in the oven door to punish himself... Harry Potter must not stay at Hogwarts.

There was a long silence.

Listen, I would like to, but I can't do that.

No, no, no, squeaked Dobby, shaking his head so hard that his ears flapped like wings. He is too great, too generous, to risk losing him. And if Harry Potter stays at Hogwarts, he will be in mortal danger.

Why? Harry wondered.

There is a plot, Harry Potter. A plot that will causeTerrifying events at the Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry this year, murmured Dobby, suddenly starting to tremble all over. Dobby has known for months now. Harry Potter must not put his life in danger. He is too important, sir!

And what are these terrifying events? Harry immediately asked. Who is behind this plot?

A strange noise escaped from Dobby's throat as he frantically banged his head against the wall.

"Alright, alright!" exclaimed Harry, grabbing the elf by the arm to pull him away from the wall.

You cannot tell me, I understand very well. But why do you bother to warn me?

An unpleasant thought then came to his mind.

Wait... Does it have something to do with Vol... sorry, with You-Know-Who? Just nod, he hastened to add, seeing that Dobby was approaching the wall again.

Slowly, Dobby shook his head.

No... This does not concern He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, Sir.

But Dobby's eyes were wide open as if he were trying to suggest something to Harry. However, he had absolutely no idea what he was getting at.

Am I the target of the conspiracy? Is it a plot by Voldemort's supporters? Asked Harry

The creature wanted to respond, but no sound came out of its throat and it began banging its head against one of the desks harder than ever, until it broke it.

The noise ended up alerting Filch, who burst into the classroom just as the creature disappeared with a snap of its fingers, to find Harry alone in the middle of the table's debris doing something other than cleaning the classroom floor. Harry gulped.

Halloween

The weeks passed and in addition to autumn, a persistent rain had settled over Scotland. A weather that did nothing to alleviate the melancholy Harry felt on this Halloween night.

For Harry, Halloween had never been a very joyful day. For him, it was above all the anniversary of the death of his biological parents. He might say that it didn't affect him, that his birth parents were horrible people anyway and that his real parents were the Dursleys, but he always felt sad on this day. And this year even more so, because he felt the absence of Petunia to share his sorrow and Dudley to distract him by taking him (forcibly) to play pranks on theneighbors

Not wanting to prevent his friends from enjoying the party, he had discreetly slipped away under a bogus pretext when it was time to go to the banquet. That evening, he preferred to wander through the empty castle plunged into the darkness of a stormy night rather than find himself in the midst of people partying. It was a bit gloomy but not unpleasant. He felt like he was in the castle from one of Dudley's favorite games: Castlevania.

Despite its trickster staircases and various other inconveniences, Harry loved the castle and planned to take this moment to explore it. He was particularly eager to solve a mystery: where did the smell of cakes that filled the Hufflepuff common room every morning come from? And where did the extra desserts that some older students regularly brought back to the common room come from? For Harry, there was no doubt about the solution: Hogwarts contained a secret room filled with sweets, and for some mysterious reason, its scent spread into the Hufflepuff common room in the morning. He and other first-years had tried to find it, without success. Maybe it changed places regularly (like the staircases)?

Thus, Harry lost himself in exploration to avoid thinking about his feelings, when the lights in the corridor where he was suddenly went out. All of a sudden, he was plunged into total darkness. A darkness that, without knowing why, sent a chill down his spine. Then he understood why when he heard thunder rumbling in the distance. Even the regular light of the lightning no longer reached him. He then focused on his other senses to try to find his bearings and then heard a strange voice. In fact, it was more of a sort of hissing. Harry concentrated to listen to what it was saying:

... so hungry... for so long...

Harry then remembered Dobby's warnings and began to panic. He called himself an idiot for having neglected the elf's warnings and promised never to wander alone in the castle at night again.

... kill... it's time to kill...

Suddenly, something charged at his back with a cry of rage, then grabbed him and began to lift him. Harry screamed and struggled with all his might.

Ouch! But our spectacled little badger has some resourcefulness. Said a voice he knew well.

I mainly believe that he is afraid of the dark. What a disappointment. Responded synchronously another almost identical voice.

All of a sudden, the light had turned back on and in front of him stood Fred and George Weasley. Harry realized he had just been the victim of a very bad joke by the prankster twins.

What on earth made you do that? I thought I was going to have a heart attack. Shouted Harry.

It would be more appropriate for us to ask you that? Don't you know it's dangerous to wander alone in the castle corridors at night? Why do you think there's a curfew? Did you at least inform someone so you can get help if you don't come back? They said in an unexpectedly serious voice.

I needed to be alone for a bit. Said Harry sheepishly. And wait a minute. Are you the one saying that? You spend your time breaking curfew. And besides, you also wander around the castle alone.

We are looking for Ginny. She wasn't well all day.

For the first time, he saw the twins look sad.

It's not surprising since today is the day of... Ron's death. But anyway, she slipped away from the banquet and we can't see her on the char... Well, we can't find her and we're worried. Have you seen her?

No and frankly you should give the princess and the pea a break. Considering how Percy is sticking to her everywhere, it's no wonder she wants to be alone a bit. Especially on a day like this. I understand that after what happened to Ron, you want to protect her, but you're just going to make her even more annoying than she already is.

Harry, don't you know that you should never speak ill of the sister of someone stronger than you?

What do you want, my brother? The youth is very poorly educated these days. No respect for the rules.

Hearing this sentence from the mouths of the two students who were the least respectful of the school's rules made Harry laugh in spite of himself.

It's fine, you've scared me enough. Your sister is perfection incarnate and I'm going to pick her up in a place with plenty of witnesses.

Excellent idea. They said in unison.

Just how did you manage to do the voice? I really thought a bloodthirsty monster was roaming the castle.

The voice? Oh! How cute, George. Fred simpered.

So young and he's already trying to make a joke. Continued George.

You'll have to eat a lot of soup before you get there, Fred replied.

Alright, I understand. A magician never reveals his secrets. You know the shortest jokes are the best? Harry replied.

The two brothers looked at each other.

Harry the darkness and the act of grabbing you from behind, it was us, but we didn't do anything else. And we heard no voices.

But yes, that's it. I'm going before the monster devours me.

Before the twins could reply, he left them, determined to go to the great hall and not leave his friends for the rest of the evening.

Despite the confidence he had shown in front of them, part of him doubted that they were behind the voice he had heard. And even if it was a joke, this experience had convinced him to take a littleTake Dobby's warnings more seriously. He did not want to put his loved ones in danger again due to his recklessness.

But a few meters further, he stopped, paralyzed by fear when his gaze met two red eyes in the shadows, staring at him from the other end of the hallway. The creature let out a scream and charged at him. He then confirmed that they belonged to the one he had dreaded seeing again for months: Scabbers, Ginny's rat. God, how he hated rats. According to his aunt, it was because of a rat that had bitten him the first night he spent alone in his room. Before, it was a storage room used by Dudley to store toys he no longer wanted, and while cleaning it for him to settle in, they apparently discovered that he also stored food there that he no longer wanted. He had no memory of what happened that night, but his uncle told him that afterward, he had slept in their bed for a week. Between that and the cupboard story, he didn't regret having forgotten everything about his early childhood.

Get lost, filthy beast.

Harry made large gestures to drive it away, but it kept charging at him. Panicking, he forgot he had a magic wand and started to run away. The rat followed him.

Ginny, if you're there, come get your filthy creature. He shouted as he ran. But only silence answered him. He was completely alone.

After a few minutes of this chase, an absurd thought came to his mind. The rat's movements were not random. It moved in a way to block certain corridors and push him towards others. Like a sheepdog wanting to herd its flock. The rat wanted to lead him somewhere.

No sooner had this thought crossed his mind than he slipped on a puddle of water and sprawled on the ground at full length. He didn't have time to recover from the pain in his back before a line of spiders as big as his fist crawled over him, eliciting another scream. Gripped by fear, he got up and this time had the presence of mind to take out his wand and press against the nearest wall. Something strange was happening here.

He shouted:

Go on twins, I know it's you. I learned the lesson so show yourselves? It's really not funny anymore.

But the only one who appeared was the rat again. But this time, he was determined not to run away. He used his other hand to stop his arm from trembling and searched his mind for a spell capable of killing the rat.

The rat fixed its gaze on the wand and seemed to understand that this time, it shouldn't charge at it. Harry took advantage of this pause to look at his surroundings and think. A sign informed him that his chase had led him into a corridor next to the girls' bathroom on the second floor.

Wait, last year, Ginny's brother didn't die in anyGirls' bathroom? And a year later, to celebrate the anniversary of her death, his rat braved her screams to drag him there while Ginny was nowhere to be found. She might be in danger, and his rat had gone to find the local hero to save the princess. Except there was a casting error. He was anything but a hero. There was no way he would put his life in danger to rescue that prissy girl. Anyway, what could a first-year like him do against a murderer who had vowed to reduce the number of weasels in the castle?

While putting the rat in a duel, he began to move away slowly, making as little noise as possible. But after five minutes, an indistinct commotion reached Harry's ears. A crowd was coming in his direction. Probably the students returning from the feast. Harry was relieved and pressed himself against the wall again, keeping his wand out to guard against any eventuality.

The rat fled and the crowd arrived, then stopped upon seeing it. Among them, Harry recognized his friends: Jenny and Lucas, as well as some first-year Hufflepuffs he got along with well.

Harry lowered his wand and stepped towards them with a big smile, saying:

Ah, I am happy to see you.

But they did not answer him and all looked at him with a shocked expression.

What's going on?

Harry, what did you do? Is that blood on your clothes? Jenny asked.

Huh!

And where had you gone? Asked Lucas

A second-year blond boy in Slytherin, whose name Harry had forgotten, pushed the other students without any shame. Once there, he recited while staring at Jenny:

Enemies of the heir, beware. Soon, it will be the turn of the traitors to their blood.

Following this statement, the students began to whisper among themselves and Jenny to insult the blond boy when the janitor cut through the crowd, shouting:

My cat. He killed my cat.

He passed Harry and rushed towards the wall against which he had leaned. Harry then saw for the first time that above the spot where he had stood was magically hung the body of Filch's cat with a message written in letters of blood that had apparently stained his clothes in some way.

The janitor gently picked up his cat and rocked her for a few seconds like a baby, sobbing.

Then he came out of his catatonia, turned towards him, and shouted:

You! He shouted in a shrill voice. It's you who killed my cat! You killed her! And now, I'm going to kill you! I'm going to...

Argus!

Dumbledore had just arrived in the corridor, followed by several professors.

Come with me, Argus, he said to Filch. You too, Mr. Potter.

I assure you that I had nothing to do with this story. Tried to plead a Harry on the verge of tears in front of the hateful look the janitor and most of his classmates were giving him.

But Snape, who seemed delighted by the situation, interrupted her sharply:

In your position, I would advise you not to discuss the director's orders.

Lockhart stepped forward eagerly.

My office is right next door, Mr. Director. If you wish to use it...

Thank you, Gilderoy, said Dumbledore.

The silent students stepped aside to let them pass. Lockhart followed Dumbledore, followed by Professors McGonagall and Snape.

When they entered Lockhart's office, Dumbledore gently took Mrs. Norris from the caretaker's arms, then laid her on the table and began to examine her.

Dumbledore carefully listened to the cat under the watchful eye of Professor McGonagall. Snape's silhouette was outlined behind them in the shadows, with a strange expression on his face, as if he was trying not to smile. Lockhart fluttered around them making all sorts of comments punctuated by Filch's sobs. Slumped on a chair, his face in his hands, the caretaker didn't have the courage to look at Mrs. Norris.

Dumbledore began to mutter strange words while giving little taps with his wand on Mrs. Norris's body. But nothing happened: it looked like she was stuffed.

Finally, Dumbledore straightened up.

She is not dead, Argus, he said softly.

Not dead? Filch choked, looking at Mrs. Norris through his splayed fingers. But how is it that she's all stiff?

She has been petrified, said Dumbledore.

That's exactly what I thought, commented Lockhart.

But in what manner, that's what I don't know, Dumbledore continued.

It's him you should ask! Yelled Filch, turning to Harry.

No first-year student could have managed to do that, assured Dumbledore. You have to be an expert in dark magic to achieve it...

It's him! It's him! Insisted Filch, his face purplish. You saw what he wrote on the wall! He knows that I am... that I am...

Filch's face twisted into a horrible grimace.

He knows that I am a Squib! He finally admitted. He even threatened to have me fired.

I never touched Mrs. Norris! protested Harry vigorously. And I never wanted to threaten him with anything. I don't care if he's a Squib. Well, if Squib means he doesn't have magical powers, right?

Lies! Snarled Filch.

If I may, Mr. Director, Snape intervened...

Harry felt more and more anxious. Whatever Snape would say, Harry knewthat it was meant to sink him. His blood boiled with rage in anticipation. He hated that man so much.

I believe that Potter simply found himself in the wrong place at the wrong time, he said with a sly look, as if he doubted his own words. But it's true that there is reason to be suspicious. What was he doing alone in that corridor at that time? Why wasn't he attending the Halloween feast with his classmates?

I have no doubt that you spent the day celebrating the event, but unlike you, for me, October 31st is not a day of celebration, Sir. Harry insisted greatly on this title so that Snape couldn't accuse him of rudeness. I wasn't in the mood to celebrate today, so I wandered around the castle. Sir.

He expected Snape to fly into a rage following this retort, but on the contrary, his face turned pale and he seemed to feel guilty. An uncomfortable silence ensued, which was broken by Filch:

My cat has been petrified! He shouted, his eyes bulging. I demand punishment!

We will manage to heal her, Argus, assured Dumbledore in a patient tone. Mrs. Sprout has succeeded in obtaining mandrake plants. As soon as they have reached maturity, I will use them to make a potion that will bring Mrs. Norris back to life.

I'll handle it, Lockhart intervened, I've done it hundreds of times...

I beg your pardon, Snape interrupted, but it seems to me that the Potions Master here is me. There was another awkward silence.

You can leave, Harry. Said Dumbledore.

Harry ran back to his common room, not very comfortable with the idea of being alone in the corridors again. Once in his common room, he went straight to bed without speaking to anyone and tried unsuccessfully to fall asleep as quickly as possible to avoid thinking about what had just happened.

The next day

Harry was starving.

Not only had he not eaten the day before, but he also had to sacrifice his breakfast to answer the questions from the Hufflepuffs and then his friends. He felt like he was back at the beginning of the year. Except that he was no longer receiving looks of admiration, but of suspicion (even hatred). For Harry, it was a thousand times more difficult to bear.

Fortunately, unlike most of the Hogwarts students, his friends and a majority of the Hufflepuffs believed him when he said he had nothing to do with it. And fortunately. Without them, he would have lost it.

But despite their support, anger built up all morning every time he caught a group of students whispering and pointing at him.Moreover, the fatigue and hunger did not help. So in a very bad mood and determined to fend off any intruder, he entered the great hall to finally satisfy his hunger. But as soon as he sat at the Hufflepuff table, he felt something brush against his leg, then his crotch. He then looked down and let out a huge scream of fear before jumping up, knocking his plate to the ground. The conversations around him immediately stopped.

He immediately took out his wand and shouted:

Ginny, come immediately to get your beastly critter or I'll make shepherd's pie out of it.

Before he even realized it, Ginny stood by his side and tried to catch the rat. But it bit her and managed to escape.

Harry began to pick up his plate. Realizing that the show was over, most of the students resumed their conversation. Harry turned red with embarrassment when he thought he heard some students mocking him. Ginny, on the other hand, since the rat had bitten her, remained motionless, staring into space.

Hey, you could help me, princess. It's your fault.

Ginny seemed to regain her senses.

Huh! What?

What eloquence! If your brain is not developed enough to coordinate such a complex task, you could at least try to apologize. You know, it just requires opening your mouth and spouting ready-made phrases without thinking. That's a task at your level.

Not who do you think you are exactly.

For someone who has just been attacked twice by your pet. Besides, maybe you did it on purpose. In fact, maybe it was you who attacked Filch's cat and then, when you ran into me in the corridors, you thought it would be a good idea to pin the blame on me? Do you and your brothers find it funny to ridicule me and make me look like a psychopath?

You are paranoid. And you're doing very well on your own to come across as a psychopath. I can't help it if you associate with future Death Eaters.

And here we go again, but change the record. Is that why you're taking it out on me? Because I don't match your wet fantasies?

Ginny kisses Harry.

Apparently, I hit a sensitive spot. If you and your brothers really had nothing to do with it, tell me where you were last night? What were your rat and your brothers doing right next to the scene of the attack?

Ginny went through a range of strange expressions and finally ran off with tears in her eyes. For Harry, it was the equivalent of a confession. But all the others noticed was that a Gryffindor from a very well-known and liked family had slapped him and then left on the verge of tears. And that's especially what the very protective Weasley brothers remembered. From that day on, he was regularly the victim of their pranks, and Prefect Percy became even more clingy with his little sister, which hadresulting in making the latter even more unbearable. If Harry had paid more attention to Ginny, he would have noticed that she was not doing well either.

His only satisfaction was seeing that Ginny and her brothers spent part of their free time looking for Scabbers. To Harry's great joy, since the scene in the Great Hall, the rat had disappeared.

Quidditch match

And Angelina approaches the goals, but is intercepted by a Bludger, but passes to Katie Bell who shoots. And Gryffindor scores!!! The score is now 30 to 60 in favor of Gryffindor!

To avoid offending any of his friends who were respectively Slytherin and Gryffindor, Harry refrained from shouting with joy with the other Hufflepuffs. Harry was skeptical when he was told about Quidditch. This sport seemed incredible, dangerous, and the rules perfectly illogical to him. Despite his love of flying, for him, it would never beat soccer. But caught up in the excitement of the stadium, he now considered it the best sport in the world.

So how do you find Quidditch in the end? A Hufflepuff from his year asked him next to him.

That's great. Next year, I'm applying to join the team.

In your dreams. Next year, I'll probably be named captain, and there's no way I'm recruiting you. Intervened Cedric Diggory who was on the row above.

Are you serious? I'm the best in flying in my year.

Yes, I saw you having fun with your friends before our training sessions. You fly well, but. (...)

Cédric was interrupted by a shout from the commentator Lee Jordan, when a Bludger hit by Slytherin struck Fred Weasley. Once calm returned to the stadium, he continued:

But Quidditch is a sport far too dangerous for someone as unlucky as you. The team doesn't have enough money to pay for a week in the hospital after each match.

No, but what kind of stupid argument is that?

In any case, the only position where a second-year can compete with an older student is Seeker. And that's my position. There's no way you can do better than me. You'll have to wait a few years. Cedric explained boastfully, before running his hand through Harry's messy hair. After some thought, to be fair, he added:

Or convince Dumbledore to transfer you to the lions. They have a good team, but as long as their Seeker is so bad, they have no chance of winning.

Being in the same house as the Weasleys. Never.

You would also be in the same house as Lucas. And the next time a tile falls on you, it will be Percy and not me who will have to fix thePieces. You know, I've already filled out the papers for your transfer request. You just have to sign. Joked Cédric.

It's really nice to feel accepted in your home. Honestly, aaaahhhhhh!!!!

Harry had just jumped to the ground to avoid a Bludger that was heading towards him. Unfortunately, he couldn't completely get out of the way and his leg broke with a sinister crack at the same time as the bench where he had been sitting a few seconds earlier. Panic seized the stands, and everyone began to flee, pushing each other.

But Harry was too busy yelling and preparing to dodge the next charge of the Bludger, which had looped around and was heading towards him again. At the cost of great pain, he rolled to the side to get out of the Bludger's path. However, to his great horror, it corrected its trajectory and was rushing towards him again. This time, he couldn't avoid taking it right in the face. He thought his last hour had come when a red flash shot from the stands above him and blew the Bludger into a thousand pieces. Before fainting from the shock and pain that was no longer as well anesthetized by adrenaline, he saw Cedric put away his wand and say:

I swear on my life that you will never join a Quidditch team. In fact, from now on, you are not leaving your dormitory.

oOoOoOo

A few minutes later, an extremely painful flash of light forced him to regain consciousness. He groaned and tried to raise his hand to shield his eyes, but he realized with horror that he could no longer feel his arm. He turned and then felt an enormous pain in his leg, which was nothing compared to the horror that gripped him when he saw that his arm had become a sort of unusable gelatinous limb.

He shouted, panicked.

AH! My arm.

For any response, a new flash of light blinded him. He then understood that it was from a camera.

Colin, stop immediately with your damn photos or I'll make you swallow your damn camera before feeding you to the monster in the room.

Harry! Shouted his two friends Lucas and Jenny as they immediately rushed to his bedside.

How are you?

What happened to my arm? Harry immediately asked without answering their question.

The two exchanged a look that made Harry panic.

Tell me it's curable.

Yes, don't worry. As soon as she's done with the students who got wood splinters, Pomfrey said she's going to give you a potion to heal your arm and that by tomorrow you'll be as good as new. However, it might be painful.

Great. Pain, that's exactly what I was missing. What happened, another Bludger?

Not worse. Lockhart. Replied Jenny

What?

As soon as you fainted, the teachers arrived to restore calm and try to understand what was happening. Lockhart examined you and said he could heal your leg. Before anyone could stop him, he cast a spell that removed all the bones from your arm, Lucas explained calmly.

What? Harry repeated stupidly, a little louder.

Do you still think he's a genius? Jenny asked sarcastically.

Oh, it's okay. Even geniuses make mistakes from time to time.

No, but seriously, when will you admit that he's an idiot?

She said while picking from a pile of cakes, candies, and pumpkin juice she had brought him, when Madam Pomfrey suddenly burst in screaming:

This boy needs rest, he needs to regrow thirty-three bones! So, out! OUT!

Reluctantly, his friends left.

Now that we are alone, please take these potions. This one is for your leg, that one is for your bones, that one for the shock,...

And Harry found himself all alone, with no distraction other than the throbbing pain piercing his arm.

oOoOoOo

Hours later, Harry suddenly woke up in the dark and let out a small cry of pain. He now felt as if his arm was filled with splinters. For a moment, he thought that was what had woken him. But he let out a cry of horror upon realizing that someone was mopping his forehead in the darkness.

Leave me alone! Exclaimed Harry. Then suddenly, he recognized:

Dobby!

The elf's enormous eyes, as big as tennis balls, gazed at Harry in the darkness and a tear ran down his pointed nose.

Harry Potter stayed at school, he murmured, dismayed. Dobby warned Harry Potter though. Ah, sir, why didn't you listen to Dobby? Why didn't Harry Potter go back home?

Harry propped himself up on his pillows and pushed away the sponge that Dobby was passing over his forehead.

Harry Potter must return home! Dobby thought that his Bludger would be enough to...

Your Bludger? exclaimed Harry, feeling anger rising within him. What do you mean? Are you the one who tried to kill me with that Bludger?

Not to kill you, sir, certainly not to kill you! said Dobby, looking shocked. Dobby wants to save Harry Potter's life! Better for him to go home seriously injured than to stay here, sir! Dobby just wanted Harry Potter to be injured enough to be sent home!

Ah, well, is that all? said Harry furiously. You better get out of here before my bones have regrown, otherwise, I'll strangle you!

Dobby had a faint smile.

Dobby is used to death threats, sir. Dobby receives them five times a day in his master's house.

He blew his nose in a corner of the grimy pillowcase that served as his clothing. He looked so pitiful that Harry felt his anger leave him despite himself.

Why are you wearing that thing, Dobby? He asked, intrigued.

That, sir? said Dobby, pointing to the pillowcase. It's a distinctive sign of house-elves. They are held in slavery, sir, and Dobby can only be freed if his masters offer him clothes. So the family is very careful not to give Dobby anything, not even a sock, sir, because then he would be free to leave the house forever.

And I suppose you don't want to tell me why you're so keen on sending me back home in little pieces?

Ah, if only Harry Potter knew! Dobby moaned, shedding tears again on his tattered pillowcase. If he knew what he means to us, the humble, the slaves, the dregs of the magical world! Dobby remembers how it was when He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named was at the height of his power! We, the house-elves, were treated like vermin, sir! Oh, of course, Dobby is still treated like that, he admitted, wiping his face with his pillowcase, but for many of us, life has improved since you triumphed over He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. Harry Potter survived and the Dark Lord's power was broken.

It was a new dawn, sir, and Harry Potter shone like a flame of hope for those of us who thought the dark days would never end... But now, at Hogwarts, terrible things are brewing, perhaps even happening at this moment, and Dobby cannot let Harry Potter stay here, now that history is about to repeat itself, now that the Chamber of Secrets has been opened once again...

At that moment, Dobby froze, as if struck by horror, then he grabbed the water jug from the bedside table and smashed it over his own head. He collapsed from the impact and reappeared a moment later, cross-eyed and muttering:

Naughty Dobby, very naughty Dobby...

So, there really is a Chamber of Secrets? Harry murmured. And... you say it has been opened again? Does that mean it was opened in the past? Tell me, Dobby.

He grabbed the skeletal wrist of the elf who was trying to take the carafe again.

I was not born of Muggle parents, said Harry, so why should I be afraid of what is in the Chamber?

Ah, sir, don't ask anything more of poor Dobby, stammered the elf, his eyes bulging. Dark deeds are being prepared in this castle and Harry Potter must not be here when they happen. Go home, Harry Potter. Harry Potter must not be involved in this, sir, it's too dangerous...

Who is it, Dobby? Asked Harry, holding the elf's wrist firmly to prevent him from hitting himself on the head with the jug. Who opened the Chamber? And who opened it before?

Dobby can't say anything, sir, Dobby mustn't say anything! Squeaked the elf. Go home, Harry Potter, go home!

There is no way I'm leaving here! Harry replied fiercely. One of my best friends was born to Muggle parents, he will be one of the first targets if the Chamber has really been opened...

Harry Potter risks his own life for his friends! Moaned Dobby in a kind of pitiful ecstasy. He is so noble! So brave! But he must save his own life, he must, Harry Potter must not...

Okay, I understand and I won't leave. Just promise me not to start this kind of messed-up plan again. Frankly, your plan is stupid. Whatever you do to me, they can fix me in three seconds. Or at least heal me faster than in the Muggle world. There's no chance I'll go home because of an injury. If I were you, I would try to get blamed for something serious and get expelled...

Dobby suddenly froze, his face fixed by a revelation.

No, that's not what I meant, it's a very bad plan! Harry whispered, looking terrified.

There was a loud crack and Harry's hand, which was holding Dobby's wrist, closed on thin air. He then shouted:

No Dobby, don't be stupid!

After waiting for a few moments without receiving a response, he let himself fall back onto the bed and tried to go back to sleep. But a few moments later, Dumbledore entered the room backwards. He was wearing a long dressing gown and a nightcap. He was holding one end of a long object that seemed to be a statue. Professor McGonagall appeared in turn, carrying the other end of the statue, which they placed on a bed.

Go get Madam Pomfrey, murmured Dumbledore.

Professor McGonagall passed by Harry's bed and disappeared. Harry remained still, pretending to sleep. He heard voices speaking hurriedly, and Professor McGonagall returned to the room, followed by Madam Pomfrey who was putting on a cardigan over her nightgown.

What happened? Whispered Madam Pomfrey, leaning over the statue.

A new attack, replied Dumbledore. Minerva found him on the stairs.

There was a bunch of grapes next to him, said Professor McGonagall. I think he wanted to visit Potter.

Harry felt his stomach contract painfully. Carefully, he raised himself a few centimeters to see the statue lying on the bed. The glow of a moonbeam allowed him to recognize the face of Colin Creevey. His eyes were wide open and his hands stretched out in front of him held his camera.

Petrified? murmured Madame Pomfrey.

Yes, replied Professor McGonagall, but... I shudder just thinking about it... If Albus hadn't come down at that moment, who knows what could have...

All three of them observed Colin Creevey for a long time. Then Dumbledore leaned over and pulled the camera from his frozen hands.

Do you think he could have taken a picture of his attacker? Professor McGonagall asked hastily.

Dumbledore did not respond. He opened the device.

Mercy! exclaimed Madam Pomfrey. A jet of steam hissed out of the camera and Harry smelled a sharp odor of burning plastic.

Melted, said Madam Pomfrey thoughtfully. The film has completely melted...

What does this mean, Albus? Asked Professor McGonagall in a worried voice.

That means, replied Dumbledore, that the Chamber of Secrets has indeed been opened a second time.

Madame Pomfrey pressed a hand against her mouth. Professor McGonagall looked at Dumbledore with wide, round eyes.

But Albus... who...

The question is not who, replied Dumbledore, his eyes fixed on Colin, but how...

And from what Harry could see of McGonagall's face, she didn't seem to understand any better than he did what Dumbledore had meant.

oOoOoOo

When Harry woke up on Sunday morning, the hospital wing was bathed in sparkling winter sunlight. His bones had regrown, but his arm was terribly stiff. He sat up and glanced towards Colin's petrified body, but a curtain drawn around the bed prevented him from seeing anything. Seeing that he was awake, Madam Pomfrey came in with the breakfast tray and began to massage, bend, and stretch his arm and fingers with the new bones.

Everything is in order, she said. When you have finished eating, you can leave.

Harry went to his common room, apprehensive about what would happen next. Even though he didn't like him, he was obviously sorry for Colin, but what worried him the most was that he had publicly threatened to send the monster after him just before the attack. He was going to be more of a suspect than ever, and it wouldn't improve his popularity among the Gryffindors, which was already extremely low due to his frequent confrontations with Weasley number 7.

New attack by the Slytherin monster

Unfortunately, his apprehensions proved to be far below reality.

Not only did more and more students accuse him of being the heir, but many decided it was time to imitate the Weasley twins. Quickly, he couldn't walk alone in the corridor without being hit by a leg-locker curse, pushed, or subjected to other bad jokes. No doubt out of a spirit of contradiction or nonconformity, the Weasley twins, for their part, completely stopped targeting him. Or maybe they understood that it wasn't his fault if their sister seemed to be getting worse and worse.

Apparently, she must have been close to Colin, because since his disappearance, she had withdrawn into herself to the point of forgetting to argue with Jenny (much to the delight of Lucas, who was tired of having to separate them).

Fortunately, the Hufflepuffs had not usurped their reputation for loyalty and without consulting him, they organized so that he was never alone. Moreover, at Cedric's initiative, the prefects of all the houses searched for the culprits and gave severe punishments to those they caught. Harry showed nothing, but their support warmed his heart. Thanks to them, he hardly suffered from the situation and became more attached than ever to his house. And not just to the latter. Despite the context, he was becoming more and more attached to the castle and the magical world. Against his will, he acknowledged that now he could no longer live like a Muggle. And even less hide his powers permanently, as he had become accustomed to doing at 4 Privet Drive.

He knew that the Dursleys couldn't bear him using magic daily in their presence. Out of consideration for him, they probably wouldn't say anything, but they couldn't completely hide their disgust. And if there was one thing Harry didn't want to see in their eyes, it was disgust. But at the same time, he couldn't abandon them (as he had done that summer). Most of the time, he pushed his thoughts away, but during the boring history of magic classes, his mind regularly wandered in that direction andplunged him into an abyss of perplexity.

Harry therefore moved in a slight gloom until one morning, he saw a group of students gathered around the notice board. A piece of parchment had just been pinned there. He approached and saw that a dueling club was going to be opened. This news excited most of his classmates who decided to sign up and talked about nothing else at breakfast. However, the announcement left Harry completely indifferent. He hated fighting and didn't really see the point of learning.

Hey, hi Harry. Said Lucas, arriving alone for lunch. He always got up well before Jenny, but usually, he waited for her to go eat.

Hi Lucas,

Did you see, they're going to open a dueling club. Should we sign up? asked Lucas.

Uh, no thank you. Replied Harry.

What, but why? Given what's happening right now, it would be super useful. And then everyone is going to sign up.

I know that Slytherins have a stick up their butt, but I don't think their monster is the type to follow etiquette and fight by the rules.

Come on, it will be fun.

Yeah. But no. Since my father forced me to try boxing, I promised myself never to do combat sports again. But ask Jenny. I'm sure she would be up for it.

If I go there with her, people will still say we're dating. It's annoying. Is it so hard to believe that a guy and a girl can just be friends?

Yes.

Harry, you could at least pretend to support me. You know, these are things friends do.

But it's your fault too. You shouldn't have given me such a huge opportunity. More seriously, it's not just because you're a guy and a girl. It's mainly because you are so, so (...) close. Honestly, you are weird.

Nonsense. It's normal for us to be close, we've known each other since kindergarten. I'm sure there are other people who have friends they are just as close with.

Dude, we've known each other for 3 months and this is the first time we're talking face-to-face because usually, you two are glued to each other all the time.

He blushed and exclaimed:

Nonsense.

Yes.

No.

Yes.

No

No matter, let's change the subject. Harry yielded. How come you didn't wait for Jenny to come eat today?

But I waited for her! I had to hang around for half an hour in the hall. Usually, when she has trouble getting up, she asks a girl from her dorm to come and warn me, and I go and drag her out of bed by the scruff of her neck, but then (...) Lucas stopped talking when he saw Harry smiling with a satisfied look and realized he had fallen into a trap.

Okay, fine, maybe we're a bit closer than most friends. But I don't see why everyone makes such a big deal out of it.

I'm not saying otherwise. It's strange, but a friendship like that is beautiful.

Stop messing with me.

No, I am serious.

Oh uh. Thanks. Lucas stammered awkwardly.

Embarrassed, they finished their breakfast in silence. But Harry and Lucas became more and more nervous as time went by and Jenny still hadn't arrived. It wasn't like her to miss a meal.

With a simple exchange of glances, they agreed to go look for her. They went to the Slytherin table to ask the girls from her dormitory if anyone had seen her. They replied that she wasn't in her bed this morning and that they didn't know anything, but Harry had the impression they were lying. Lucas apparently noticed this and decided to press a girl she got along with quite well. However, a second-year blond who vaguely reminded Harry of someone interrupted them.

Said the Gryffindor. Your table is on the other side.

I am looking for my friend Jenny. She is in Slytherin. You haven't seen her by any chance?

No. Now go away. He replied, annoyed, while two students resembling gorillas, who were next to him, flexed their muscles.

And very gently. What's gotten into you? We're just looking for our friend. With all these watch stories, we're worried about not seeing her arrive. Declared Lucas to calm things down with all the experience he had gained from de-escalating the Ginny/Jenny duels.

Harry, for his part, if it weren't for loyalty to Lucas, would have bolted in the other direction. Had he already mentioned that fighting wasn't his thing?

If you really cared about her, the mudblood, you would leave her alone. Her blood is already sullied enough. Now go away and don't meddle in Slytherin affairs anymore.

Harry now remembered who it was and immediately felt guilty. It was a Death Eater's son and, above all, he was the idiot who had said that blood traitors would be the next to be attacked on Halloween. Caught up in his own problems, he hadn't paid attention, but his friend was apparently in trouble with the other members of his house. And with the most dangerous ones at that.

Like the Gryffindor he was, Lucas was about to respond violently, but he was quickly surrounded by other second-year Slytherins with icy stares. He decided to keep quiet and retreat.

Malfoy then displayed a satisfied smile. He and his gang stood up and passed by, jostling Harry and Lucas. But one of them discreetly whispered to them as they passed:

She is in the girls' restroom on the second floor.

The ones that are haunted and where no one goes? But what would she be doing there? asked Harry.

But the boy disappeared without saying more.

He comes back. Called out to Harry.

No, leave it.

Do you know him? Who is that guy? Asked Harry.

It's Theodore Nott. His cousin.

Oh! Do you think we can trust him?

No, but we don't have any other leads. Said Lucas, beginning to head quickly towards the restroom.

Wait. Shouted Harry

What? Do you have a better idea? Hurry up. Jenny might be in danger.

Yes, I have an idea. Before rushing to a secluded corner of the castle where an angry group of Death Eater offspring and maybe the heir himself might be waiting for us, we should ask my Hufflepuff friends and your Gryffindor friends to accompany us.

oOoOoOo

This is how about ten first-year boys and Luna Lovegood from Ravenclaw (nobody had asked her to come, but she had followed them and nobody had complained) headed to the girls' bathroom on the second floor. Once in front of the door, Harry was seized with fright at the thought of the vast unknown awaiting him inside. Unfortunately for his survival instinct, nothing could scare him more than losing a loved one.

He grimaced and violently opened the door. He then saw his friend standing on a toilet cabinet with both hands tied to a pipe. She seemed terrified and huge dark circles indicated that she was also exhausted. Without further caution, Harry and Lucas rushed towards her, but she screamed.

No, move away, it's dangerous.

But it was too late. A huge snake appeared before their eyes. Lucas stepped back and cast a spell on the snake, but it didn't seem to affect it.

Harry steps back! Where did that snake come from?

But Harry, for a reason he did not understand, felt no fear. He did not know how, but he knew the snake would not harm him. He stayed in place and asked:

— What are you doing here?

— Do you speak?

Harry, surprised that the snake replies to him, said:

— Of course I speak. I am a human. It's you speaking that is surprising.

This response seemed to annoy the snake, which continued earlier.

— What do you want, human?

— I want you to leave my friend alone and leave the castle.

— The one who summoned me left me here, hungry, with your friend as my only food, but I have no venom and she does not let herself be suffocated.

— I fear that she is very stubborn on this subject. Around the castle, there is a forest with plenty of prey much more (...)

— Feed me and I will go away.

Guys, does anyone want to feed the snake? Harry turned around and saw everyone else looking at him with a horrified expression (except for Luna Lovegood, who was looking at the ceiling and smiling).

Hey guys. What's going on? asked Harry

They all approached (except for Lucas) and took out their wands to point them at him.

Don't move, you bastard. Peter went to warn Chourave.

Harry looked at them with a half-dazed, half-horrified expression.

No, but calm down guys. It's Harry. Declared Lucas.

Are you in on it with him? Did he promise you that if you helped him lure us into this trap, he would spare your life and your girlfriend's?

We are not together. Lucas and Jenny shouted in unison.

The snake meanwhile turned away from them and moved closer to Jenny, who screamed and pushed it away by waving her foot.

— Leave her there and disappear or I'll kill you myself.Bluff, Harry.

The serpent, unaware that none of the first-year wizards facing him knew magic powerful enough to defeat him, decided to head towards the game-rich forest that the arrogant two-legs had mentioned to him. But seeing this gigantic serpent apparently immune to the most basic spells heading in their direction, the students became frightened and began casting spells at Harry.

Harry narrowly dodged thanks to reflexes acquired during years of playing football. Fortunately for him, most of his opponents were not skilled enough with magic to aim correctly, even at such a short distance. But unfortunately for Jenny, who was still tied to the pipes, he aimed so poorly that she was grazed by an unknown orange spell that set the toilet partition where she was tied on fire.

Friends, next time, leave me with the snake. She declared.

Forked tongue and consequence

Can we know what's going on here? Stop immediately! Demanded Chourave upon arriving at the scene of what looked like a disaster. Harry, Lucas, and Jenny (who had been freed from her bonds with Harry's Alohomora) were entrenched behind a barricade made of wooden partitions and pieces of faience in the middle of a chaos that had once been the girls' bathroom, while about ten of their classmates were sending them basic spells more or less well executed (paradoxically, it was the poorly executed spells that caused the most damage).

It is him, the heir of Slytherin. He asked his monster to attack us.

But have you lost your mind? Harry declared.

Put away your wands immediately. Those who still have them in their hands in 5 seconds will be expelled. 5, 4, 3, 2. Good. And now, could someone calmly explain to me from the beginning what happened here?

This was followed by a perfectly incomprehensible commotion.

Stop! One at a time, please.

oOoOoOo

After some explanation Chourave asked:

And what became of that famous snake?

I don't know. He must have run away while we were fighting.

You want to tell me that a one-meter venomous snake, resistant to magic, is roaming around Hogwarts looking for prey and that you couldn't find anything better to do than fight among yourselves? If a student gets bitten, you'll all be in detention until the end of the year.

It is not venomous. Harry specified.

Here, it's the proof. He knows the snake. How could he know otherwise. He harangued a Hufflepuff named Justin.

You heard him say it just like I did. Harry replied.

What are you talking about? I heard you speaking Parseltongue.

Huh? What's Parseltongue?

It must be the name of the thing you did with the snake. Said Lucas.

Fourchelang is the language of snakes, Jenny explained.

Harry can talk to animals. Cool! Said Lucas.

Not fair to the snake. And that's not cool at all.

Wait, both of you, what are you talking about, I spoke English. Interrupted Harry

No, Harry, Justin is an idiot, but he's right, you spoke Parseltongue.

I'm letting you know that the idiot came to save you.

I didn't ask you for anything.

On one hand, Harry was glad that his friends supported him, but on the other hand, Jenny's fiery temper (worsened by a difficult night) was not going to help him make up with the other Hufflepuffs.

After this last tirade. The two groups contented themselves with glaring at each other like cats and dogs until Sprout ordered them to return to their common room (except for Jenny, who was forcibly sent to the infirmary). During the following hours, the teachers searched the castle for the reptile.

oOoOoOo

A few hours later.

It was Malfoy and his gang who attacked Jenny.

These are very serious accusations, Mr. Potter. What proof do you have? Asked Professor Sprout.

But finally, it's obvious that it's him. We told you how he reacted in the great hall.

The situation does not allow you to disrespect your teachers. You will use the term professor or Sir to address each of us.

Thank you Severus, but I think I am capable of earning the respect of my students myself. Moreover, the problem is not the respect my students show, but the respect yours show. Declared Professor Sprout, glaring at Professor Snape.

It is certain. To return to the subject, unlike you, I did not wait until today to notice that Mr. Malfoy and Miss Jenny have, shall we say, some differences. I have therefore already questioned his classmates who assure me that he was in his dormitory at the time she was attacked.

On the other hand, your Hufflepuff classmates raised an interesting point. Of course, I don't think you have anything to do with this attack, but could you tell me how you knew where to find Miss Jenny?

Harry and Lucas silently decided not to report Theodore Nott. They were practically sure that the Slytherin had nothing to do with this attack and did not want to get him into trouble.

I don't remember anymore.

All of this is not very clear. Maybe we should deprive Potter of certain privileges until he regains his memory. I propose (..).

I do not see how the situation would justify Potter being punished for anything. Cut in Sprout. Besides, 20 points for Hufflepuff and 20 points for Gryffindor for helping a student in danger. But next time, even if you are not sure something has happened, inform a teacher.

oOoOoOo

A few hours later in Snape's office.

Snape was furious and had to use all his patience to refrain from strangling his student.

Mr. Malfoy, can we know what was going through your mind?

What are you talking about, sir?

Don't play these little games with me. Snape said, casting a murderous look, capable of frightening even a Death Eater. Nevertheless, the unbearable brat seemed indifferent to it. He had favored the boy too much.

Very well. You will be in detention every evening, with me, until the end of the year.

You don't have the right. I will tell my father.

Oh, but there's no need to inflict this trouble on you. I have already informed your father, and he is just as furious as I am to learn that his heir has the atrophied brain of a Gryffindor. No, even the stupidest of Gryffindors would at least have had the intelligence not to sign their crime. Serpensortia is a spell that I invented myself, and you are the only student I have taught it to.

But we cannot let her sully the reputation of the Notts!

And what does Mr. Nott think exactly?

The expression Malfoy adopted was the best response.

We don't care what that coward thinks. It's the honor of pure-blood families that's at stake.

Congratulations! Everyone is positively impressed that it took five of you to gang up on a first-year witch. The whole school is buzzing about your incredible display of power. No doubt that upon leaving Hogwarts everyone will feel respect and fear towards you. And it is obvious that this little stunt has restored your honor. Your peers absolutely do not think of you as a bunch of inbred degenerate aristocrats devoid of power and intelligence just waiting to be outsmarted by more talented people.

We should do nothing then?! Malfoy challenged.

I don't know, but you, you must learn to behave like a true Slytherin and not like a stupid child. And it starts by stopping drawing attention to yourself. Tomorrow, you will go apologize to Miss Nott, publicly in the Slytherin common room. And if I learn that you have resumed your little vendetta against her in any way whatsoever, I will ensure that your punishment extends during the school holidays.

But why is it so serious? She's just a traitor to her blood!

100 points less for Slytherin.

But why?

For deliberately breaking the school rules in front of a teacher and for forcing me to explain what is obvious even to a 5-year-old. If you have to ask stupid questions, at least try to ask them in an intelligent and indirect way. In your opinion, what will the witch society do following these attacks?

Find the culprit.

You are so naive! They are going to look for a scapegoat. Another question. Try to think this time. What has your father been trying to do since the end of the last war?

He is trying to regain respectability while placing our allies in the highest possible positions in the ministry.

Correct, even though you could have added that he also tries to discredit his enemies, especially Dumbledore. Snape continued. Well, do you understand now why your attitude is problematic?

But no one will ever accuse us of being responsible, my father (..)

Your father can't do everything. And even if he could, in his place, I would let you face the consequences of your actions to knock some sense into you. Even if it means having to transfer you to Durmstrang afterwards.

But that can't be. I have an alibi for both attacks!

Mr. Malfoy, do you know who was accused and convicted the last time the Chamber of Secrets was opened?

No.

This is Rubeus Hagrid.

What? But it's impossible that this simpleton has anything to do with (...).

Exactly. And that's the conclusion anyone with the intellectual capacity of a flobberworm can reach. Unfortunately, as my students prove to me every day, the average level of wizards is well below that. You are lucky that Potter chose that moment to show the whole school that he was a Parselmouth. Without that, you would have been accused. And at the next attack, your father's many political enemies would have pushed the Ministry to demand your expulsion.

In desperation, Malfoy let out:

You can't put me in detention. There's no proof that it's me. Unless you want to tell them that it's you who taught me this spell?

Did you listen to what I said? The stakes go far beyond the school setting. And for your information, if there is no evidence, it's because I covered for you. But we can still make arrangements. What will happen if I allow Chourave to use the Priori Incantatum on your wand? Or if I go to question Miss Nott myself to force her to confess the names of her attackers? But you are right. I cannot openly punish you after proclaiming your innocence. That is why you will tell everyone who asks that you are voluntarily helping me prepare lessons to improve your potion skills. And if you are late even once to your detentions or if I hear you complain again, you will deal directly with your father to receive a punishment more fitting for you. Now, get out of my office. You have already wasted enough of my time.

oOoOoOo

A few hours later.

How come Snape knew that Malfoy was harassing you and not us? Why didn't you tell me anything? Lucas asked, just after Jenny was finally allowed to leave the infirmary.

He doesn't harass me. I have no problem with that slick little jerk.

Stop lying to me! Don't you trust me?

But no, it's just that... I don't know, I didn't feel like talking about it. You too must sometimes want to keep things to yourself.

Me, I always tell you everything. Lucas said as he left.

Lucas is waiting.

Don't worry, he's just a little shocked. It's normal to have secrets. As soon as he calms down a bit, he'll come back to apologize and we'll see what we can do to make the slick-haired one not want to do it again. Said Harry to reassure the young girl.

No, he is right. I should have talked to him about it.

During the following days, Lucas refused to talk to Jenny, which caused a lot of suffering for the young girl and Harry, who had to act as an intermediary between the two.Friends. Over time, they eventually started talking again, but Lucas remained more reserved than before with his childhood friend. Despite everything, even during the period when he no longer spoke to her, Lucas spent a lot of time discreetly following her to ensure nothing happened to her and somehow managed to convince some Slytherins in his year to tell him what was happening in her dormitory.

To avoid worsening the problems, Harry refrained from any comment, but he found Lucas's behavior unhealthy. He remained silent, hoping that things would improve with time.

Batman

Since the students had discovered that he was a Parselmouth, all the Hufflepuffs (except Cedric, of course) began to avoid him. In the common room, no one accused him of anything, but the suspicious looks and the exclusion he now faced were more painful to him than insults. And without the support of his house outside the common room, the bullying quickly resumed.

Fortunately, he still had the support of a few people like Jenny, Lucas, Cédric, and curiously the Weasley twins who had come to apologize in one of their rare moments of seriousness and had offered to help them get revenge on Malfoy.

He also recently counted Luna Lovegood among his supporters. Indeed, in the joint classes with the Ravenclaws, such as potions, she was now the only one who agreed to pair up with him. However, the gentle madness that characterized the young Ravenclaw prevented him from becoming friends with the young girl.

Despite their support, the situation was particularly painful for him. He didn't understand why he was so hated. What was wrong with him? Maybe they were right? Maybe these attacks were connected to him? It was quite a coincidence that, with all the students present in the castle, the attacks specifically targeted people with whom he had had disagreements recently. And in the rare moments when there was no witness to say where he was. Could he be the heir of Slytherin and somehow responsible for the attacks? Was that why he was a Parselmouth? He knew almost nothing about his father's family after all.

He gathered his friends in an abandoned classroom that he had gradually transformed into their hideout by bringing in cushions and candy supplies. Timidly, he explained his doubts to them.

Frankly Harry, it makes no sense. During the first attack you weren't absent and during the second, you were bedridden in the infirmary. How could you have attacked other students? Declared Jenny

I don't know. Maybe I have a connection with the monster and it attacks the people I'm angry with?

If that were the case, we would have gotten rid of Snape a long time ago, joked Lucas.

Jenny gave him a little nudge.

Hands off my house director. Said Jenny jokingly.

Why are you defending him when he's protecting Malfoy? Harry said with deep resentment.

Since the attack, Malfoy is almost afraid to talk to me, and I'm sure it was him who intervened.

If you say so. Conceded Harry skeptically. In that case, who is the heir?

I don't know. You said Dobby wanted to keep you away? So that means you're a target. That's a clue. Replied Lucas.

But that doesn't make any sense. I'm a half-blood. And who would want to go after me?

You don't have the slightest little idea? Said Jenny sarcastically.

Well, no. I'm just a kid. And I don't know anyone in the magical world.

Let's see, Harry. You are the survivor. The one who defeated Voldemort. Announced Jenny in a tone of obviousness.

Dobby claimed it wasn't him. At that moment, Harry had a revelation and added: But he gave a funny wink as if to tell me it was a clue.

Anyway, he's dead. He's dead, right? Added Lucas anxiously upon seeing Harry's expression.

I don't really know. I think he died this summer, but Dumbledore dodged the question.

How's it going this summer?

Harry then explained to them that Voldemort had survived in a diminished form after their first encounter 11 years ago. Then, a few months ago, a servant of Voldemort named Quirrell had kidnapped him to try to restore his master's full power using his blood, but the ritual had gone wrong.

There you go, after that, I fainted and I don't know what happened to Voldemort. And Dumbledore only gave me evasive answers.

Well, let's forget Voldemort. If he were lurking in the castle, I think Dumbledore would spot him. And then I doubt that Dobby is lying. His wink might have meant that it's another of his servants. I bet the heir is a son of a Death Eater wanting to avenge his master and purge the castle of those he considered impure.

But of course, it's Malfoy, the culprit. Exclaimed Harry.

Lucas was immediately convinced by Harry's hypothesis, but Jenny said it couldn't be him. According to her, he was too stupid for that. Moreover, she knew where he was at the time of the other attacks.

Come on, stop trying to play the hero, Batman. Jenny said to close the subject.

Batman?

Well, yes. Your parents are dead, you're rich, and you fight evil. You're Batman.

oOoOoOo

A few days later, Cédric ran into a Harry in the corridors who was running with a black cape followed by his two friends also in disguise.

I am vengeance. Harry screamed.

Why am I the one playing Batgirl? Lucas complained for the umpteenth time. It would make more sense for me to be Robin, he added while readjusting his skirt.

Uh... Don't forget to sign up to go home for Christmas. Replied a Cedric whose brain had fried in front of this spectacle.

Batman already did it.

oOoOoOo

Author's note: The idea of bringing Batman and Harry together is not mine. I borrowed it from a meme I saw, I don't know where.

A name emerged from the past

Haaaaaa!

Harry woke up in a sweat once again. He hadn't told anyone, but since the other students regularly attacked him in the hallways, he had started having nightmares again. Each time, the pattern was the same. He would relive a bullying incident he had experienced during the day, then something would remind him of what had happened in the scimitar last June.

He took a glass of water and looked at his alarm clock. It was 3 a.m. He congratulated himself on having managed to learn the silence spell. His dorm mates were already not thrilled to be woken up in the middle of the night when he fancied himself a hero. Although, thinking back to the snake episode, his dorm mates were so afraid of him that they probably wouldn't dare say anything to him. Harry found it so stupid. How could they think he would kill them for a wrong word when they had spent several months together?The house of badgers, my eye. More like that of brainless sheep.But he should have warned Cédric anyway. However, he was fed up with the fifth-year student treating him like a baby.

He rested his head against the pillow and thought. This time, it was different. As usual, he had revisited the moment when he was tied to the grave, but this time, his brain recalled a detail. The name on the grave was the same as the one on that medal he had spent hours polishing in the trophy room because of that (For your mental health, the insults that follow have been replaced by bird names) pelican of a seagull, ended up as a pigeon, albatross, egret, communist snipe of Snape.

Almost, but not quite. The name on the trophy was Tom Elvis Riddle while he was practically sure that the name on the grave was Tom Riddle. Voldemort had said it was his father's grave. And the incantation left no doubt that it was true. This Tom Elvis Riddle must have had a connection with Voldemort. He had received his award in 1942, so he was between 11 and 18 years old at that time. Harry calculated that he must be approximately 50-60 years old today. Given his age, he might have been Voldemort's father. No, that wasn't possible since it was Tom Riddle who was his father. Well, whoever he might be, he was family.

Harry was intrigued. He had never imagined that this monster could have a family. Well, yes. Since Dudley had gotten internet access, he had a pretty good idea of how babies were made and he knew well that he wasn't born by the operation of the Holy Spirit. Harry remembered the catechism classes in that strange church, where he had been after Vernon decided that the sermon of their parish priest was too deviant. Maybe Voldemort was that antichrist the priest had told him about and therefore didn't really have a father or family. Harry also wondered what that priest would have thought of the fact that he was a wizard and studied magic. But he dismissed his dark thoughts and returned to Riddle.

To have received such an award and for it to have remained on display for so long, he must have done something exceptional. He must have been a good person. Furthermore, the father's grave was located in a Muggle cemetery, so they were probably not purists. It must have been horrible to be linked to that psychopath.

As he fell asleep, he promised himself to go do some research at the library the next day. He was curious to learn more about Voldemort's family and the reason for this trophy. For all he knew, he might still have living relatives.

oOoOoOo

The next day at the library.

Phew! It's useless. Complained Lucas.

But that's not possible. I agree that all the copies of the wizard's gazette from 1937 to 1944 were burned in a fire, but there must be traces of what was happening during that period. Not all the archives could have disappeared. Harry replied.

Well, yes. There is nothing. And then, it's not that important. Besides, it might not even be Riddle on the grave. Maybe in your dream, your mind mixed up two memories. How about we go to the Quidditch pitch instead? Lucas replied.

You're right. Replied Harry, who could never resist an invitation to fly.

Jenny lifted her head from the big book she was reading and objected:

It seems rather that someone deliberately wanted to prevent us from investigating this period. So there is something interesting to discover.

Or maybe the archives just disappeared for no particular reason. I'm sure there are plenty of years for which we have nothing without there being a reason. I'm sure this Riddle was a super boring guy like Percy and didn't do anything really interesting. Or maybe he's the one who killed Binns and the students insisted he be rewarded.

Wait, the missing period. It's exactly 7 years. And the gap in the gazette copies starts on September 1, 1937, exclaimed Jenny.

And so? said Harry, who was now eager to get on the Quidditch field.

Think. Doesn't it remind you of anything?

No. Replied Harry who did not like riddles.

It's the duration of a schooling at Hogwarts. The gap corresponds to the beginning of the school period and stops exactly at the end. And we know that during this period, something sufficiently exceptional happened at Hogwarts for a student to receive a special award. Moreover, this student is probably from Voldemort's family. It can't be a coincidence! Someone wanted to erase all traces of a person's schooling from the archives. And there aren't a thousand wizards who would have had the power to do that under Dumbledore's nose.

Wait, your theory doesn't hold up. Okay, the Hogwarts archives have disappeared, but there must be plenty of other archives in the country. Destroying the one at Hogwarts was pointless. Objected Harry

Maybe they have been destroyed too. Lucas, would you lend me Heracles? I will write to the gazette to ask them for a copy of an issue from that time.

Of course. Replied Lucas, who was delighted to lend the bird his parents had given him in the hope that he would write to them more often.

Why would he have done that? Persisted Harry

You said his father was buried in a Muggle cemetery? Didn't it occur to you that it might be because he was a Muggle?

What? But that wouldn't make any sense he (..). Oh! He wanted to hide that he was a half-blood. Maybe even a Muggle-born! And if it didn't bother him to promote the extermination of Muggles when his father was one, it means he hated him. In your opinion, what could his father have done to make him hate him so much? Harry began to think quickly.

I don't know. But can you imagine what people would say if it got out? I'm sure Malfoy would have a fit. Dreamed Jenny.

Don't you think you're both getting carried away a little too quickly? All we have is a dream of Harry's and a gap in the archives. Maybe the Hogwarts librarian at the time filed the documents by year and it's the section containing his 7 years that caught fire. And then, there must have been plenty of people who investigated Voldemort's origins. Even if he tried to hide them, they must now be ultra well-known.

We can check that quickly. Said Jenny, while going to get a huge grimoire on the history of dark mages.

But hey. I'm fed up with the library. Wouldn't you like to go out? For once, the weather is nice. Complained Lucas.

Harry looked out the window and saw through the frost a gray sky with light rain.

It's true that the weather is nicer than usual (Harry hated the climate of northern Scotland). We could do that later.

Jenny sighed.

It's okay, boys, you can go play outside. I'll stay here.

Yes, mom. Replied the two rascals before running off under the angry gaze of Madam Pince.

oOoOoOo

A few hours later in the great hall.

Well, what's with the funeral faces, boys? said Jenny, finding her friends who were eating silently at the end of the Slytherin table. Since the incident, Jenny had integrated much better into Slytherin, while Harry was rejected by most of the Hufflepuffs and Gryffindors. As a result, the trio had gotten into the habit of eating with Jenny, and despite the house rivalry, Harry and Lucas had ended up getting along with the other first-year Slytherins. Well, thosewho agreed to speak to a mudblood and the outcast of the school.

It's nothing. Lucas replied. Is your research progressing?

Yes, they are moving forward. Said Jenny, her eyes full of excitement. But I won't say anything until you tell me what's wrong. She tempered.

How can you tell that something is wrong? Asked Lucas

I know you, Lucas. I always know when something is bothering you. She replied spontaneously.

This reply caused a moment of awkwardness between them. Despite all their efforts, the many students who regularly chanted "Oh! The lovers" when they saw them had ended up creating a feeling of discomfort. Harry cleared his throat to end this awkward moment and explained:

When we were on the Quidditch field, some Gryffindors arrived and wanted to hassle me. When Lucas intervened, they asked him how he could associate with me after what I had done to Colin.

What a bunch of idiots. But oh well, it's not the first time. Said Jenny

Yes, but among them, there was Jackson. Lucas replied weakly.

Jenny said nothing. Jackson was one of the Gryffindors he was closest to and one of the few who supported Lucas's choice to remain friends with Harry. But as time went on, Lucas found himself increasingly isolated within his house. This saddened Lucas, but it weighed especially on Harry's morale, who couldn't help but think that his friend was suffering because of him. Yet at the same time, he didn't want to end up alone and felt guilty for his selfishness.

Lucas was aware that Harry felt guilty. In fact, he had come to understand that Harry tended to believe that everything that went wrong around him was his fault. And no matter what anyone told him.

He therefore preferred to avoid discussing his problems with the other Gryffindors in front of Harry and chose to change the subject:

Otherwise, what did you find?

Absolutely nothing.

But you said you found something

Precisely, I found nothing about the origin of Voldemort. Everyone at the table shuddered, especially the Death Eater sons.

Oh, it's okay, it's just a name. Jenny exasperated. So I was saying that all the authors start Voldemort's story in the late 70s where he appears out of nowhere as the leader of a new conservative party. The only one who mentions his origin says that some rumors claim he is the last descendant of Slytherin, but that seems unlikely to him, because the last descendants of Slytherin were the Gaunts, whose last representative died in Azkaban in 1943 for the murder of several Muggles.

The descendant of Slytherin. Like the heir of Slytherin. Harry then thought back to Dobby's wink and continued. You think that whatWhat Dobby meant is that the heir of Slytherin is a member of Voldemort's family.

That, I don't know, but I went to find out about the Gaunts in 'The Rise and Fall of the Great Pure-Blood Families.' And guess what?

All the pages concerning the Gaunts have been torn out?

Bingo. After hours of research, the only thing I could find on the Gaunts is this.

She took out a book titled 'History of Parseltongue' and read:

— ‘Since the disappearance of Guy the Savage, the only family still speaking Parseltongue in England are the Peverells and a little-influential pure-blood family living in Little Hangleton named the Gaunts. However, it should be noted that the only Peverell with descendants is part of a branch of the family that has never shown the Parseltongue gift and that she married the heir of the Potter family, famous for its closeness to what remains of the Gryffindor house. It is therefore feared that this wonderful gift may completely disappear from Great Britain and that India will forever remain the only country where a majority of wizards possess this power.Harry, that's why you are a Parselmouth. It's because one of your distant ancestors was one.

But Harry noticed another detail:

Little Hangleton. That was where the cemetery was located.

His friends took a few seconds to assimilate the information. Lucas continued.

Okay, this time, I admit it, that's way too much of a coincidence. Something happened in 1943 that you-know-who wants to hide and that concerns the Gaunts and the Riddles. However, don't you think that this last descendant of the Gaunts makes a much better candidate to be Voldy's daddy? I mean, he was a pureblood who spoke Parseltongue and killed Muggles.

Yes, but it can't be him. It was indeed Riddle the name on the tomb. I'm sure of it.

And if the bones in the grave were not those of a Riddle, but those of a Gaunt? And if someone had marked a false name on the grave?

And I'm the one who gets carried away quickly? Commented Jenny

While his friends began to argue, Harry thought and tried to remember Voldemort's words. But at the time, he had only listened with a distracted ear to the psychopath's speech. With intense concentration, a memory came back to him, and he felt like vomiting.

That bastard said I should thank him for killing Dudley. He said he helped me purify my lineage like he did with his own. Or something like that. At the time, I didn't pay attention, but it probably means he had Muggle origins and that he killed them. For me, there's little chance that this Gaunt is Voldemort's father.

When Harry had once again uttered the cursed name, the whole tablestopped eating and Malfoy came to meet them escorted by his two gorillas:

What are you three plotting?

Nothing that concerns you, Malfoy. Spat Jenny, giving him a look of pure hatred.

Already you allow yourself to invite to our table blood of (…). Well, already we tolerate the presence of a Gryffindor, you could make an effort and not invoke the name of the Dark Lord in vain.

I prefer to associate with mudbloods than with vermin like you. Malfoy grimaced when she said the word mudblood. What? What's this new shyness? We all understood what you really meant.

It's okay, Jenny, let it go. It's not worth it, Lucas tried to calm the tensions.

At least your dog knows its place. If you really want it to eat with us, teach it some manners, replied Malfoy in a drawling voice that Harry found extremely annoying.

For your information, I'm the one who said Voldemort. And I find it ridiculous that you're afraid of the name of that lunatic. It's just a name, damn it.

Malfoy and his two gorillas paled upon hearing that.

I see that your bad associations have rubbed off on you. Names have power, Potter, and if you want to survive, you should show a little more respect towards the Dark Lord. I could teach you, Potter. You have enormous potential. Don't waste it out of loyalty to people who don't deserve it. Malfoy declared solemnly, extending his hand towards Harry.

It's up to me to decide who deserves my loyalty. And I will never show respect towards the murderer of my parents. Or towards his accomplices. Harry added with a pointed look at Malfoy.

Don't give me the poor orphan act. Do you think you're the only one who has lost loved ones? How many people do you think your parents killed during this war? How many children became orphans because of them?

Harry wanted to respond, but he didn't know what to say. Petunia and consequently Harry knew nothing about what had happened during the war and the role his parents had played in it. Was it possible that Malfoy was telling the truth and that his parents had also massacred families from the opposing side? But Jenny answered for him.

Poor Death Eater dead while trying to assassinate other people. The Aurors are really monsters for having tried to stop them. Oh, that's right, for the Death Eater only the life of purebloods matters.

What's going on here? Causing trouble again, Mr. Potter? Boomed Snape's voice, which had slipped in unnoticed behind the trio.

Not at all sir, it's them (...) Tried Jenny

In any case, you had better all go to class, all three of you?

Come on, let's go. Said Lucas, dragging Jenny by force.

Harry, for his part, was more than delighted to get away from the Slytherins. He had no desire to face them. But once out of the great hall, Jenny freed herself from Lucas's grip and attacked him:

Why didn't you say anything? That guy insults you and you don't reply.

He replied calmly.

He held back at the last moment. And then I don't care what that jerk thinks. All I want is for him to leave you alone.

I don't need your protection. She said sulkily, but in a much less angry tone.

Nor am I yours, but whatever I say, I would still have it. He said in a more annoyed tone. But he added in a softer tone: thank you for defending me.

Christmas

Hey Potter, not too sad about not getting a present this year? Even Santa Claus won't want to give anything to someone like you. A young Gryffindor threw at him from behind.

Harry, exasperated by weeks of remarks, responded aggressively:

You didn't know that Santa Claus doesn't exist?

Wait, didn't that fool know? Thought Harry as he saw the little one start to cry.

oOoOoOo

30 minutes later.

But how can you believe in Santa Claus at your age? Asked Harry

If he doesn't exist, how do you explain that everyone receives gifts at Christmas? Explained the young Gryffindor whom Harry had clumsily tried to console.

It is the parents who give them. Harry replied immediately.

But why would they do that? If they give us gifts, why wouldn't they say it's them? Why would they lie to us like that? And then, how would millions of adults coordinate on the same lie? Your story doesn't hold up.

Harry, who at the moment did not know how to respond, changed his angle of attack.

No, but don't you realize that it's not possible for him to exist? It's your story that doesn't make sense.

Why?

Well, how would he visit all the houses in the world so quickly?

By using shirt powder, obviously. Everyone knows that Santa Claus comes down the chimney.

How would he make so many toys?

Everyone knows it: with an army of house elves.

How would he know who was wise?

That's easy: he just needs to have a sneakoscope on him when he makes his rounds.

No, but stop being delusional. It's just not believable that he exists. It would just be incredible. Harry finally said, annoyed that he had an answer to everything.

Why? It is no more unbelievable than unicorns and dragons.

Do you also believe that dragons and unicorns exist? Are you completely bonkers? Exclaimed Harry in astonishment.

oOoOoOo

A few weeks later

On the evening of Christmas Eve, Vernon, while sneaking down to have one last piece of turkey (without his wife's knowledge), gathered his courage to ask:

Uh Harry...? Can I ask you what you're doing with a crossbow in front of the fireplace?

I am waiting for Santa Claus. I want to know why I didn't get my tricycle 7 years ago.

Harry, are you aware that Santa Claus doesn't exist? Aren't you?

How do you know he doesn't exist?

Well, it's obvious.

In front of Harry's gaze, he wondered if this crazy school hadn't done something to his nephew. But for his own good and for the sake of his marriage (he did not(should definitely not wake Petunia) he held back the anger that would start to rise in him and simply said:

Already since the time he is supposed to exist, he would have been dead a long time ago.

Not necessarily. There are tons of creatures that live very long, even eternally like the Phoenixes. And since Flanelle discovered the existence of the philosopher's stone a thousand years ago, we know how to keep a wizard alive for eternity. And precisely, Santa Claus appeared during this period. Coincidence, I don't think so. Do your own research. Here, I found this old article from the Chicaneur that reveals that the ministry and the toy manufacturers' lobby are hiding the existence of Santa Claus from us.

No, but you're crazy, and how would he visit all the houses in the world so quickly?

(…)

oOoOoOo

At midnight that night, everything was calm in the Dursleys' living room. Only the breathing of Vernon and his nephew could be heard as they struggled against sleep in front of the fireplace. They had decided earlier that they would not fall asleep before Santa Claus arrived.

At the moment when the youngest was nodding off, an explosion ravaged the living room and suddenly woke him up. A hole had just appeared in the hearth, and green flames were now proudly rising from it. Vernon then remembered that he had bricked up the chimney a few years ago and had kept only a decorative frame. Both of them hid behind a sofa. At that moment, a huge man dressed in a red coat with a large black beard entered the room, dragging a big sack behind him.

Harry then exclaimed:

Hagrid! What are you doing here?

Hic? You, what are you doing in my house? And isn't that my crossbow you're holding behind your back? Give it back to me immediately! It's not a toy for children.

Hagrid staggered back, sobering up immediately upon realizing the danger.

After a few explanations, they understood that before going to bed, Hagrid had remembered that he had to go feed some puffskeins that Professor Brûlopot had bought for his Care of Magical Creatures class (the bag contained the puffskeins' food). Since he had a bit of trouble walking, he wanted to use the Floo Powder, but apparently, he mispronounced his destination. Instead of ending up in the puffskeins' room, he found himself in the Hufflepuff house. And as a security measure, Dumbledore had temporarily connected their house to the castle's fireplaces (without informing them), so Hagrid had landed in their common room.

After this explanation, Hagrid repaired the living room and left while the two ashamed Dursleys went to bed, wondering how they had ever sincerely believed that Santa Claus existed. Before going into his room, Harry said softly:

I'm sorry, Dad.

Why are you sorry, son?

You still had to endure my oddities.

Seeing his nephew's miserable look, all his anger melted away. It is true that he had begun to think that all this was the fault of his nephew's anomaly.

You are not responsible for anything. It wasn't you who asked that old fool to give access to our house to all the drunks in the area.

You shouldn't say that about Hagrid. He's nice, you know. But it's because of me that he connected the fireplace and the living room was destroyed. It's because of me that you believed that far-fetched story and didn't sleep.

Yes, he is not mean. Admitted Vernon, who did not quite agree to respect the half-giant for that matter. Vernon continued:

The living room has been refurbished and for the rest, it is not your fault. When Dudley (...). Vernon paused. Despite the time mentioned, the memory of his son was still difficult.

Do you remember during our vacation in Barcelona? When Dudley threw up on the plane? Do you think it was his fault? Was it his fault if he had a sensitive stomach? Of course not. It's the same for you. It's not your fault if you have powers. It's a flaw, but we all have our faults for which we are not responsible.

Harry refrained from saying that on that day Dudley had vomited because before boarding the plane, he had dared his cousin to eat an entire pot of ice cream in less than a minute. Instead, he remained silent, as for some reason Vernon's response had not comforted him at all. Seeing this, his adoptive father continued:

And then it was fun to stay up together. How about having one last hot chocolate with marshmallows?

Harry smiled more genuinely at this proposal. He eventually fell asleep in the living room chair, and despite his fatigue, Vernon took the time to carry him to his bed, noticing in passing that he had grown quite a bit, in just six months. He realized that it was probably the last time he would carry him. After that, he would be too big. He tucked him in and kissed him on the forehead as he used to do every night, not so long ago. Then he left Harry's room with a mix of pride and nostalgia.

oOoOoOo

A few hours later, Harry thought he saw a sleigh in the sky (but it was probably just a cloud) and in a dream, an old man with a long white beard whispered in his ear:

Harry, you are too old to receive a gift from Santa Claus, but I am happy that you are not too old to believe in the wonderful.

The next day, in addition to the gifts from his adoptive parents and friends, there was a package offered by an unknown person. Upon opening it, he discovered an invisibility cloak.

oOoOoOo

Author's note: Originally, this chapter was a non-canonical, humorous piece set at Hogwarts, which I was inspired to write while jogging. It made me laugh so much internally that when I returned, I spent the afternoon writing it. But as I wrote, I thought it would be nice to integrate it into the story. So I reworked it for that purpose. In this rewrite, much of the humor was lost, but I have no regrets. I find that in addition to giving a wonderful tone that allows my fic to approach the tone of the books, it is a good way to show that despite the trauma he experienced in June, my Harry is much more childlike than the Harry from the book (for now).

For me, it is a logical consequence of the fact that he was raised by the Dursleys. For me, a Harry spoiled like Dudley is in the books.would necessarily have been less mature than the Harry in the books. And then most 12-year-olds who weren't raised in a cupboard are much more innocent than the Harry in the books.

Interrogation of Dippet

As soon as Harry discovered the cloak, he began to imagine all sorts of uses he could make of it. An entire universe of mischief opened up to him. The Weasley twins better watch out!

But very quickly, he decided that his first use would be devoted to uncovering the mystery surrounding Riddle. Indeed, his friends and he had quickly concluded that, since all the archives had been destroyed, the only way to learn more would be to speak to someone who had lived through the events firsthand. However, apart from Dumbledore, they didn't know anyone that old, and Harry didn't want to question the old wizard. Given that he was already suspected, what would it be if he openly started investigating the Chamber of Secrets? Snape would have a field day. And anyway, the old wizard only responded with riddles. He shouldn't complain later if everyone thinks he's senile!

On the evening of the return, he covered himself with the cloak, left his common room, and snuck to the headmaster's office. He had thought for a long time about including Jenny and Lucas, but with the new security measures, going back and forth between the three common rooms discreetly would have taken too much time. And then, if he got caught, there was no point in all of them getting punished.

Once in front of the gargoyle guarding the entrance to the office, he began to try all the candy names that came to mind one after the other. Harry hoped the headmaster hadn't changed his password system since the summer. After what seemed like an eternity to him, the gargoyle unlocked access to the headmaster's office, and Harry was finally able to enter the great hall where the portraits of all the former headmasters were located. Without wasting time admiring the magnificence of the room or the various strange objects found there, he began to read the captions under the portraits in search of the headmaster in office in 1943. He quickly found:

Mr. Dippet,

The wizard depicted in the painting woke up with a start and grumbled.

Hello young man, what are you doing here at such a late hour?

I would need to talk to you for a presentation on the history of magic.

At this hour? By the way, how did you get in?

Dumbledore gave me permission. He says there's no time limit for learning. And to be honest, I have to turn in my assignment for tomorrow.

Ah, I see. Very well then! Ask me your questions. But be more diligent in your studies next time.

He forced himself to look stern, but he rather seemed amused by the situation.

Yes, Mr. Director.

I haven't been a director for a long time. Call me Armand, will you?

Okay. Could you tell me the reason why Tom Riddle was awarded a medal for special services to the school in 1943?

All of a sudden, he looked terrified.

What is your assignment about again? And what is your name?

My name is Draco Malfoy and I have to do an assignment on the history of Hogwarts.

A Malfoy, really? With your brown hair?

I was adopted. Improvised Harry, who had been prepared for him to ask his name, but not to question his lie.

My boy, during my career, I have encountered much better liars than you. So why don't you just tell me the truth?

But damn, what could have happened in 1943 for it to be so hard to get information? Is it a state secret or what?

An expression of regret passed over his face.

No, it's just the kind of event we don't want to talk about, even long after it happened. However, you are right, I have no reason not to answer you. But please don't judge me too harshly. You don't know what it was like to live in those years. The war was everywhere, both among wizards and Muggles. My work was incredibly difficult, and not everyone is Dumbledore.

The wizard stopped for a few minutes. Harry waited patiently for him to speak again.

I gave him this reward for stopping the Heir of Slytherin and putting an end to the attacks on Muggle-borns.

What!? Exclaimed Harry, who did not expect that.

What's so surprising?

Has the Chamber of Secrets already been opened?

Yes. That's what I said.

But Professor Binns told us that it's a legend. The story of Hogwarts says it's just a legend. Why did they lie to us? And then in that case, do you know where the Chamber of Secrets is? And then (...) Harry blurted out quickly.

Calm down, young man. One question at a time, please. To begin with, your teachers have not lied to you. The Chamber of Secrets is just a legend in which only the simple-minded believe. What is the likelihood that this chamber exists when no one has found it in over a thousand years? Not to mention that, as a historian, I can assure you that in its current form, this legend only dates back to the early 19th century, when pure-blood families imported the racist ideologies developed by Muggle colonial empires to justify slavery and then maintain free blacks in an inferior status. Indeed, as its name suggests, the Chamber of Secrets was not in earlier legends a weapons room where aPotential heir could come to help themselves to embark on a totally anachronistic technical purification project, (…)

Unable to stop himself, Harry let out a yawn as loud as it was impolite, which outraged Professor Dippet. Harry didn't know it, but before becoming headmaster, Dippet was a passionate professor of the history of magic, who couldn't stand it when others didn't share his interest in the subject.

In short, throughout the year 1943, Muggle-borns were attacked and found petrified by high-level magic. A number of malicious people, who were probably in cahoots with Grindelwald, spread the rumor that these attacks were the work of the heir. They even went as far as writing texts in letters of blood on the school walls several times. But I never believed those nonsense. There had to be another explanation for these attacks. What it was, I do not know. Probably a dark magic spell specially invented by Grindelwald for the occasion. It was likely part of a plan to destabilize England in preparation for an invasion. In any case, he was defeated the following year by Dumbledore, and we never heard of a so-called monster of Slytherin again.

Harry once again felt a strong urge to yawn, but he knew that if he wanted information, he had better let his interlocutor speak until the end. The first time, he had seen from his expression that the portrait was about to throw him out.

And Riddle in all this?

Oh! It is a very sad story. Towards the end of the year, in addition to the petrifications, a student was found dead in the toilets. Riddle had discovered a few weeks earlier that Hagrid had acquired a giant Acromantula and asked him to confess, rightly thinking that this creature must have been responsible for the horrible murder. But he refused, so Riddle attacked the creature so that at least it wouldn't harm anyone else.

Unfortunately, she ran away, so he was forced to report it, so that a search could be organized. In other circumstances, I would not have approved of betraying a comrade's trust in this way, but here, it was completely justified. Following his revelations, the authorities deemed that Hagrid was the perpetrator of the various attacks and I had to punish him accordingly.

I didn't know Hagrid was that old, commented Harry.

I also noticed during his rare visits to the director that he doesn't look 62 years old. His half-giant genes must have preserved him from aging.

So you condemned Hagrid, even though you thought he was innocent? Harry asked with a hint of accusation in his voice.

Innocent, I would not say that. He still put the lives of all the other students in danger by secretly raising an Acromantula. And it is very likely that he caused the death of Miss Myrtle Elizabeth Warren. That certainly deserved punishment. However, not as severe as the one he received. And even less than what he would have had without Dumbledore's intervention. I am not asking you to forgive me, but to try to understand me. It was either that or closing the school. For you, Hogwarts is probably just a school, but at that time, it was also a refuge for the children of opponents to Grindelwald and one of the few places where wizards of all statuses mingled and formed a society. In those years of widespread disintegration, maintaining such a place was essential.

You said probably. Hagrid may really be innocent?

Maybe yes. The analyses requested by Dumbledore failed to prove that acromantula venom was the cause of his death, as well as the absence of a bite. Not to mention that it is surprising that the acromantula did not devour its victim. But the forensic wizards also indicated that they could not rule it out. Moreover, I don't see what else could have happened to him.

Maybe she was killed by the same thing that attacked the other Muggle-borns?

That seems unlikely to me, as the modus operandi was very different. To begin with, the other victims were petrified and not killed. Then, during the other attacks, the bodies were carefully staged to make an impact on the crowds, whereas this time the body was placed on the floor of the second-floor girls' bathroom without any form of artifice. Of course, the public did not bother with these considerations and attributed this attack to the heir.

One last thing, what is the connection between Riddle and the Gaunts?

None, during my lifetime. And I would be surprised if that has changed over time. You see, Jedusor was a Muggle-born and the Gaunts are purists of the worst kind. If they ever met him, I doubt they even spoke to him. Although, I say Muggle-born, but in fact, we cannot be sure. You see, the poor child was an orphan, and no one knew who his parents were. During his early years, he would tell anyone who would listen that he descended from a high lineage. He also spent a considerable amount of his free time searching for any trace of a Jedusor in the wizarding world. But he found nothing. Even after I allowed him to search the headmaster's archives to reward him for his excellent results.

Her eyes began to sparkle at the memory of her former student.

He was so talented. A true genius. The living proof that Muggle-borns are not inferior to pure-bloods. And yet, even the latter appreciated him. Everyone appreciated him, to be honest. It must be said that he was so kind and helpful. Always wanting to help others. And that, despite theacts of abuse of which I suspect he was a victim in that horrible orphanage.

In fact, thinking about it, there were two people who didn't like him. First, Fleamont Potter, who hated him from the first day, without me understanding why. Yet, Tom was one of the few who never made fun of his name. Well, it seems to be a tradition among the Potters to hate the best Slytherin student. Isn't that right, Mr. Potter?

How did you guess?

You look a lot like your father. And now I remember seeing you in this office several months ago.

Are you going to report me?

No, my boy. I was delighted to speak with you. You know, the life of a portrait is extremely monotonous. And one of the few advantages of being dead is that you no longer have to follow the rules. In return, I would like to ask you a favor. I don't know why you are interested in Riddle, but if you find out what became of him after he left Hogwarts, come back to see me. I never managed to find out during my lifetime and for some reason, Dumbledore refuses to tell me. Probably because he feels guilty for having been unfair to him during his schooling, just because he was a Slytherin.

The interrogation of Hagrid

The following morning, Harry had recounted in detail his interview from the previous day to his two friends, who were both fascinated and vexed to have been sidelined.

But this story doesn't match at all with what we know. Are you sure you didn't misunderstand? asked Jenny.

Sure and certain, Riddle was a Muggle-born orphan. He cannot be the father of You-Know-Who, because it is not his name on the grave, but he cannot be anything else, because he had no family. And he is much too young to be the grandfather of you know who. And yet, they have a family connection. Harry summarized awkwardly.

And if it was him, you know who? Asked Lucas

That would mean he was over 60 brooms the day he attacked my parents. That's old to be the best of the wizard fighters, replied Jenny.

That doesn't mean anything, look at Dumbledore. He's over 100 years old and still the most powerful wizard in the world. Lucas countered.

Yes, well, Dumbledore, it's obvious at first glance that he's not very young anymore. And I'm not sure he would still be able to hold his own in a duel. And then he described Riddle as a saint. Honestly, do you think that resembles You-Know-Who? And then how could he have started the extermination of Muggle-borns if he was a Muggle-born? Harry declared.

Maybe he didn't care about racial purity and just wanted power. Maybe that's why he put so much effort into hiding his origins? Lucas insisted against the other two.

Still, I find it hard to associate the paragon of virtue he described to me with a bloodthirsty madman. And then the Dark Lord only appeared 30 years after Jedusor left Hogwarts. There would have been plenty of people who would have recognized him and knew his origins. He could never have fooled the purebloods. Said Harry

Anyway, Dippet must be wrong about something. It's just too inconsistent. Not to mention this petrification story supposedly caused by Grindelwald's supporters. If that were the case, how do you explain it happening again today? Jenny continued.

Do you think he lied to me? I swear he seemed sincere. And then what interest would he have had in doing that? He's dead, he fears nothing anymore. Asked Harry

I don't know. What if we went to see Hagrid? Maybe he has another version. I would be surprised if he sang the praises of Riddle. Maybe he saw a dark side of Riddle that he wanted to hide? Maybe he has information and that's why Riddle falsely accused him to keep him quiet? suggested Jenny.

I don't really want to bother Hagrid with this. I doubt he wants to talk about it. Declared Harry

Harry, it's no longer just about satisfying our curiosity. It's aboutdiscover who is really responsible for these attacks and stop them before there is a death. Jenny replied

Anyway, with the new security measures, we won't be able to go see him.

Harry, do you think all three of us would fit under your cloak? Jenny asked.

The following night Harry, Jenny, and Lucas, huddled under the invisibility cloak, silently advanced towards Hagrid's hut.

Once they arrived, they knocked on the door and it was a visibly frightened Hagrid who opened it.

Hagrid, it's me Harry.

Harry! Where are you?

Harry removed his invisibility cloak.

Where did you get that? It's a magnificent cloak. Declared Hagrid.

We would like to know too, but he refuses to tell us. Declared Lucas.

I already told you, it's a gift from Santa Claus. Why do you refuse to believe me?

And you are? asked Hagrid to interrupt the beginning of an argument between the three friends.

Lucas and Jenny introduced themselves, and Hagrid invited them in before serving them tea and some rock-hard biscuits. Then he asked them:

Well, I am delighted by your visit, but why did you break the curfew to come see me?

We wanted to ask you some questions, sir. Declared Jenny, wriggling.

No mister between us. Just call me Hagrid. What do you want to know?

Well! It's a bit delicate. We discovered that a long time ago you were falsely accused of opening the Chamber of Secrets and we wanted to know what really happened?

Hagrid's expression clouded, but he told them word for word the same story as Professor Dippet.

So Aragog was guilty? Asked Harry once Hagrid had finished speaking.

Of course not, he would never have done that.

The 3 children looked at Hagrid with skepticism. They had looked up what an Acromantula was in the library and the descriptions had sent shivers down their spines.

And anyway, when I wasn't with him, Aragog was magically locked in a classroom. He could never have escaped to go attack Mimi. Moreover, at the time of the attack, I was brushing his hair. Ah! I remember, the little rascal had just hadHis first hairs and he always managed to convince me to skip classes to take care of them.

So why did Riddle accuse you? Asked Harry.

He didn't know it at that moment. He was so furious about Mimi's death that he attacked Aragog before I could explain to him. Apparently, her death affected him a lot. Yet, I didn't feel like they were very close.

And then, how did he react? I'm sure he behaved like a real bastard and stuck to his story at all costs to get the reward? Asked Lucas, concerned about defending his theory.

Well, there you are completely wrong. Riddle was not like that at all. On the contrary, he quickly recognized his mistake and did everything to fix it. When it became clear that I was innocent, few had the courage to admit their mistakes. Even my friends from Gryffindor turned their backs on me after that. But he apologized and stayed by my side. He spent a lot of time preparing my defense and at the trial his plea was so impressive that I thought I was going to be acquitted. I must say he was so eloquent. I believe that, in this area, he surpassed Dumbledore himself. In any case, he helped me much more than my court-appointed lawyer. I still remember him. He was an arrogant pureblood who despised me because of (...). Anyway, he despised me and did nothing to help me. In any case, I think it wouldn’t have made any difference. The jury didn’t care much about whether I was innocent. In the end, I was sentenced to several years in Azkaban prison. Fortunately, a few days after the trial ended, Dumbledore defeated Grindelwald and used his fame to have my sentence commuted to a simple expulsion from Hogwarts.

So actually, you became friends with Jedusor

No, not really. When I was still at Hogwarts and the Gryffindors turned their backs on me, he offered me to join a little secret club he had created. But I refused. The solitude weighed on me, but I wouldn't have belonged there. It was a club full of pure-bloods with huge prejudices. And then I don't know, I was always uncomfortable in Tom's presence. Probably because he was an intellectual who didn't like to get his hands dirty. And then he kept asking me questions about giants and how to talk to them. What did I know? It wasn't because (…)

But he was interrupted by knocks on the door.

If you are found here, you will be in trouble. Hide quickly. In the corner, there. Hagrid ordered them.

Hagrid quickly checked that they were well hidden, then he grabbed his crossbow and went to open the door.

Good evening, Hagrid.

It was Dumbledore. He entered, his face serious, followed by a strange-looking man, short, stout, with disheveled gray hair and an anxious expression. The man wore mismatched clothes thatformed a curious mix: pinstripe suit, red tie, long black cape, and purple boots with pointed tips. He held a green bowler hat under his arm.

Hagrid had turned pale and his face was covered in sweat. He dropped into a chair and alternately looked at Dumbledore and this strange man.

Nasty business, Hagrid, he said, enunciating each syllable. Very nasty business. I had to intervene. Two attacks on Muggle-born children, while the memory of last year's deaths is still fresh. Things have gone far enough. The ministry must act.

I never... said Hagrid, looking at Dumbledore imploringly. You know well, professor, that I never...

Cornelius, I would like it to be very clear that Hagrid has my full confidence, said Dumbledore, frowning.

Listen, Albus, replied Cornelius, uneasy. Hagrid's background does not work in his favor. The ministry has to do something. The members of the school board have consulted.

Once again, Cornelius, I repeat that removing Hagrid will make absolutely no difference, Dumbledore continued.

Her eyes shone with a blazing light that Harry had never seen in her before.

Put yourself in my place, said Cornelius nervously fiddling with his hat. Everyone is watching me. I have to be seen taking action. If it turns out that Hagrid is not guilty, he will return home and it will no longer be talked about. But I have to take him. I wouldn't be doing my duty if...

Take me? said Hagrid, who had started to tremble. Take me where?

For a short time only, said Cornelius, avoiding his gaze. It's not a punishment, Hagrid, just a precaution at most. If we find another culprit, you will be released with all our apologies...

You're not going to take me to Azkaban? Roared Hagrid.

Before Cornelius had time to answer, someone knocked on the door again.

It was Dumbledore who went to open the door. Jenny then let out an exclamation that earned her an elbow in the ribs. A man with blond eyes, a disdainful look, and an aristocratic demeanor had just entered the cabin. Given the resemblance to his son, the visitor's identity was obvious. It was Lucius Malfoy. The father of Draco Malfoy and probably an accomplice in the murder of Jenny's father (and countless other people). He wore a cold and satisfied smile. Fang began to growl.

You are already here, Fudge, said Mr. Malfoy approvingly, very good, very good...

What are you doing here? Hagrid exclaimed furiously. Get out of my house!

My Dear Sir, rest assured that I take no pleasure in being in your... uh... what do you call this? A house? Malfoy replied with a disdainful look around him. I simply stopped by the school where I was told the headmaster was here.

And what exactly do you want from me, Lucius? asked Dumbledore. His tone was polite, but the blazing light still shone in his blue eyes.

I am sorry for you, Dumbledore, replied Mr. Malfoy in a nonchalant tone, taking a scroll of parchment from his pocket, but the Hogwarts board of governors feels that it is time for you to step down. I have here an order of suspension concerning you. You will find the twelve required signatures there. We have deemed that you are no longer up to the task, I am sorry. Hogwarts cannot afford to lose so many students each year.

Wait, wait, Lucius, said Cornelius, looking frantic. Dumbledore suspended? No, no, that's the last thing to do...

The appointment or suspension of the director is the decision of the board of directors and not the minister of magic, replied Mr. Malfoy in a soft voice. And since Dumbledore has been unable to put an end to these attacks...

Let's see, Lucius, if Dumbledore can't put an end to it, who then will be able to? said Fudge.

You could see beads of sweat appearing on his upper lip.

We shall see, declared Mr. Malfoy with a wicked smile. But the twelve council members have voted...

Hagrid jumped to his feet. His shaggy head almost touched the ceiling.

And what were your arguments to convince them? He roared. Threats? Blackmail?

My dear Hagrid, said Mr. Malfoy, your hot temper will one day get you into serious trouble. I advise you not to shout like that when dealing with the guards of Azkaban. They would not like it at all.

You can't dismiss Dumbledore! He shouted so loudly that Crockdur went to hide in his basket, trembling. If he leaves, the Muggle-born children are doomed! Next time, there will be deaths!

Calm yourself, Hagrid, said Dumbledore sharply. He turned to Lucius Malfoy.

If the board of directors wants me to leave, Lucius, I will go, of course.

But... stammered Fudge.

No! Roared Hagrid.

Dumbledore's blue gaze fixed on Lucius Malfoy's cold, gray eyes.

However, Dumbledore resumed, speaking very slowly as if he wanted to ensure that not a word of what he was going to say was lost, you will find that I will truly have left the school only when there is no one left to remain loyal to me. You will also find that at Hogwarts, help will always be given to those who ask for it.

For a moment, Harry was almost certain that Dumbledore's eyes had turned toward the corner of the cabin where he was hiding with Jenny and Lucas.

These are admirable sentiments, declared Malfoy, bowing. We will all miss your... uh... very personal way of running things, Albus, and I just hope that your successor will be able to prevent... uh... "next time, there will be deaths...".

He stepped towards the door, opened it, and bowed, gesturing for Dumbledore to exit. Fudge, who was still fiddling with his hat, waited for Hagrid to pass in front of him.

Here I come, said Hagrid, putting on his coat. But just as he was about to step through the door behind Fudge, he paused and said in a loud voice:

Someone will need to feed Crockdur while I'm not there. The door slammed and Lucas removed the invisibility cloak.

Crockdur then began to whine while scratching at the door.

Valentine's Day

The next morning McGonagall announced, without hiding her bitterness, the suspension of Dumbledore and that as deputy headmistress, she would temporarily take over until the board of governors appointed his successor. Hagrid's departure, however, was not even mentioned and no one seemed to notice his absence.

This announcement had the effect of a bomb and was met with a wave of terror among the Muggle-borns. Harry did not understand this reaction. As powerful as Dumbledore was, how did his presence protect them? Most of the time, he was in his office and completely powerless to detect or prevent attacks. Despite his doubts, he took turns with Jenny so that one of them was always with Lucas. They hoped that the presence of a pureblood at his side would deter the heir from attacking him.

This school year was definitely not joyful. And yet, Harry had two reasons for satisfaction: Firstly, most of the students were too busy, like him, protecting their Muggle-born friends to continue their campaign of intimidation against him. Secondly, Lockhart had announced that he would hold a special event for Valentine's Day. Nothing had leaked about what it would be, but Harry was sure it would be grandiose. And he couldn't wait to tease his two friends to death. No, it wasn't cruel of him. It was for their own good. Someone had to be dedicated to making sure those two fools finally admitted that they were more than friends.

A month passed without incident and the day before Valentine's Day arrived. As usual, Harry got up early to go meet Lucas at the entrance of his common room. Harry didn't like hanging around the area. He encountered the Weasleys far too often for his liking. But if Jenny took care of it, the risk of Lucas dying while trying to intervene in a fight between her and Ginny was too high.

Unfortunately, the hatred between the Slytherin and the Gryffindor had not calmed down with time. Not to mention that Jenny was really not a morning person. In fact, most of the time, he had to go to the Slytherin common room to wake her up. According to the girls who shared her dormitory, only Lucas could force her out of bed without getting cursed. Harry thought they were exaggerating until he tried it himself.

Once their breakfast was finished, noticing that Jenny still hadn't arrived, they headed towards the dungeons. When they reached the second floor, they stopped. Harry didn't like this place. It was where they had found Mrs. Norris. Despite all of Filch's efforts, there were still red traces on the wall, and leaks regularly occurred from the abandoned girls' bathroom located atSide.

In short, the place was sinister.

But what made them stop was the scene unfolding before their eyes. Jenny and Ginny were dueling. And Jenny was clearly in trouble. In fact, it was more of an execution than a duel, so one-sided it was. Ginny was casting spells at a frantic pace that Harry had never heard of, with a glint of madness in her eyes that a Jenny covered in cuts could barely dodge.

Even before Harry could understand the situation, Lucas had rushed to help his friend. Without exchanging a single word, he was now fighting two against one in perfect synchronization. But it didn't seem to make much of a difference. Harry took out his wand, determined to help them subdue this fury, when in a protective reflex Lucas grabbed Jenny's hand as she was about to stumble.

Immediately, Harry felt a change in the atmosphere. It was subtle, almost imperceptible, but it was definitely there. A kind of pressure filled the room. Seemingly noticing nothing, Lucas cast a shield to block the spell Ginny had just sent their way. Usually, his shields were thin halos of magic that struggled to even dampen the power of Ginny's spells. But this time, what emerged from his wand was a wall of light so dense it seemed to have the consistency of steel. Ginny's spell bounced off the shield. She was so surprised that she couldn't dodge it and took it head-on. She lifted off the ground and crashed violently against the wall.

Before they had time to recover from the shock and understand what had just happened, the voice Harry dreaded most was heard:

What happened here?Potter! I understand everything. So you decided to follow in your father's footsteps and attack your enemies three against one? How brave. 20 points off and a detention for each of you. And lower your wands immediately. If any of you dare to cast even one more spell, not even your fame will save you from expulsion. Miss Weasley, are you alright?

Snape said, rushing to Ginny's bedside.

She blinked her eyes, seemingly not knowing where she was. After a few seconds, she said in a trembling voice.

Yes, I am fine. Just a headache.

I am taking you to the infirmary.

No, it's fine, I'm okay. I have to... I have to go to class.

Little idiot. You may have a head injury. It is out of the question for you to return to class without Madam Pomfrey's approval. Snape harangued.

Since I tell you that I am fine.

As you wish. It's not like I'm going to cry if you collapse in a hallway. I will escort you to your classroom and after that, it will no longer be my responsibility.

Don't let her go. Said in a hoarse voice a Jenny who was struggling to catch her breath.

After what just happened, you should keep a low profile.

The notebook.

Everyone had their eyes fixed on Jenny, consequently no one noticed Ginny's face turning green following her cryptic words.

Stop, I don't want to hear another word from you. Miss Nott, Mr. Cross, it seems to me that your next class is with the Slytherins in Transfiguration. Come with me. I could then see you explain to the Deputy Headmistress the reason for your delay.

His two friends, understanding that it was useless to try to explain themselves to Snape, decided to follow him without a word.

And you, Mr. Potter, I advise you to reflect on your behavior.

It's the pot calling the kettle black. If there was one person who should try looking in the mirror from time to time, it was him.

Once they had left, Harry went to his Charms class. But he couldn't concentrate on what the tiny professor was saying. He kept thinking about what had just happened.

Ginny was much more powerful in combat than he thought, but that wasn't what intrigued him the most. After all, she was a pureblood and the only girl in a family of Gryffindors. It was normal for her to know many spells. It was even possible that after Ron's death, her parents - or her brothers - had made sure she was able to defend herself.

What intrigued him was the violence of the fight. Why on earth had they clashed so violently? Harry and Lucas had often joked about the rivalry between the two girls, but it had always been limited to teasing and occasionally harmless spells. Here, it looked like they were trying to kill each other. Harry was finding it increasingly difficult to think. After an hour of class, he had started to get a headache. One thing was certain, it wasn't Jenny who had started it. On the outside, she seemed tough and always ready to attack, but Harry now knew that it was just a facade and that she would never start a fight. Despite appearances, she was someone gentle.

Unable to take it any longer, Harry asked to go to the infirmary, which Professor Flitwick graciously granted.

Under the suspicious gaze of his classmates, he left the classroom.Once in the corridor, the pain diminished and now that he could think again, he realized something that terrified him: the pain came from his scar. He turned around and headed towards the headmaster's office, momentarily forgetting that Dumbledore was no longer there.

After having gone through a number of empty corridors, he saw what he had so dreaded since the night of the first attack. He collapsed to the ground, and tears began to flow from his cheeks as he repeatedly said, "No, this is not possible, why?"

To ensure he wasn't mistaken, he approached, but he had to face the facts.

In front of him lay the lifeless bodies of Lucas and Jenny, their hands joined in eternal union. Hagrid had been right. This time, there had been deaths.

oOoOoOo

Author's note: I allow you to throw stones at me for killing Lucas and Jenny. But what do you want? The work of a fanfiction author is mainly to make their characters suffer, and I am conscientious.

Now that I no longer risk spoilers, I would like to give some information about these characters. When I decided that Harry would do his second year at Hogwarts, I realized that I would have to invent OC characters. Indeed, apart from Ginny, Luna, and Colin, we don't know the second-year students at all, and I didn't find it very coherent for them to become friends. And since character creation is not my strong suit, I decided to shamelessly plagiarize characters from another fic.

These two characters are from the fanfiction:Revenge is so sweet I loved reading it a few years ago (despite its lack of an ending). One of the flaws of this fanfiction that I've always regretted is that, in my eyes, it underutilizes the soulmate concept. In summary, they share the same soul, if they are forcibly separated (or if they want to separate) they die, but on the other hand, when they are together their magical powers are multiplied (that's why Lucas manages to produce such a powerful shield). I find that this relationship has all the hallmarks of something toxic that could make the two wizards suffer in ways other than due to misunderstandings (which I really liked, by the way). And I love seeing the characters suffer (once again, I'm not sadistic but conscientious).

Unfortunately, I had to kill them before they reached the age to develop a more advanced romance. No, really, I had to. I don't make Harry suffer for pleasure, but because it's necessary to reach volume 4, which was the first written. I wrote the rest solely to be a prequel to this volume 4. I know it's not very logical to start at the end, but at least this way, you're sure that my fanfic will have an end (unlike some I won't name).

At the top of the tower

A few days after the attack, McGonagall announced with a deep look of disgust that to address the situation, the council had urgently appointed a new headmaster. After this announcement, a blond man, richly dressed, entered the great hall and took McGonagall's place to the applause of the Slytherins and the boos of the other houses. Everyone understood. Lucius Malfoy had been appointed headmaster of Hogwarts.

He emanated a dangerous aura of authority that demanded obedience. With a single word, he restored silence and began his speech. After briefly lamenting the laxity of recent years in terms of security, which had led to numerous tragedies, he started listing a series of new rules that applied immediately, in order to restore order within the school. The list was endless but could be simply summarized: Muggle-borns were no longer allowed to do anything except attend classes and stay in their common room. Between classes, they were to move in groups under the supervision of teachers and rely on the generosity of their peers to bring them clothes, books, mail, and more importantly, the food they would need. This amounted to stripping them of all freedom and making them dependent on pure-bloods and half-bloods. In the face of the protests that began to emanate from the great hall, he concluded his speech by proclaiming:

I am aware of the unjust and restrictive nature of these new restrictions. Unfortunately, recent events have shown that they are essential for your safety. At the same time, equally exceptional measures will be taken to quickly track down the person responsible for these attacks and restore the conditions to end this state of exception.

I have been appointed to bring radical and pragmatic solutions to the problems of this school. And that's what I will do, even if it offends conventional thinking. And this will start with thorough searches of the Slytherin common room and dormitories. But also with the random and regular use of Priori Incantatum on their wands.

As a former Slytherin, I am aware of the discriminatory nature of this measure, but let's not delude ourselves. The heir of Slytherin is unlikely to be found in Gryffindor. Furthermore, I hope with this measure to defuse the inevitable accusations of bias or ideological favoritism. My opinions and past are known to all, but rest assured. I accepted this position with the aim of serving my community and not to impose my views on the future generation of wizards and witches.

Harry received the announcements without the slightest emotion, from the Slytherin table where he now ate alone. For some time, he had been indifferent to everything. He no longer even took the time to respond to insults and barely reacted when he was the victim of a leg-locker curse in a corridor.

After discovering the bodies of his two friends, he had remained in a catatonic state, waiting. Waiting for what? Even today, Harry did not know. That the Weasley twins would appear and tell him that it was all just a bad joke? Instead, he was discovered by a flow of students coming out of class. Their faces filled with hatred, fear, and disgust, then gradually, they formed an accusatory circle around him. Realizing the danger, Harry stood up and tried to escape, but he was quickly pushed back to the center of the circle.

Fortunately, a teacher arrived before serious injuries could be inflicted on him. However, for the entire school, he was now guilty. And no matter that it should have seemed absurd to anyone who had known him even a little bit.

Only Cedric continued to believe he was innocent, but he stopped mentioning it in public after receiving howlers from his parents (other Hufflepuff students had warned them). Badgers are united, even when it comes to ostracizing one of their own. On reflection, there was also Luna Lovegood, the Ravenclaw with whom he now systematically partnered in Potions class, who didn't seem to believe in his guilt. But that didn't count. Harry wasn't even sure she believed that students had been attacked. Luna lived in her own world, and unfortunately, Harry couldn't join her there.

Since then, he hugged the walls and contented himself with going back and forth between the great hall, his classes, and the old classroom that Cédric had set up for him to sleep in. Returning to his dormitory was out of the question, and Chourave turned a blind eye to the rule violation this represented. He had been wandering like this for a week, like a zombie in the castle. Nothing mattered anymore, nothing brought him joy.

oOoOoOo

A few hours later

Mr. Potter. Please stay for a moment, I beg you.

Yes, Mr. Lockhart. Said Harry in an emotionless voice.

Once they were alone, Lockhart began.

If I asked you to stay, it's because I'm worried about you. You were my best student. But since this recent tragedy, your behavior has deteriorated significantly. And all these rumors. Of course, I don't believe a word of it, but since it's better to be safe than sorry and you are my favorite student, I decided it was my duty (...)

Get to the point, professor. Said Harry in a drawling voice.

You see, it's exactly this attitude that worries me. I'm telling you, you're on the wrong path, my boy. But it's normal. It's partly my fault too. Out of vanity, I displayed my power for all to see and gave you the impression of being powerless. After the recent drama, I understand that you no longer have the patience to patiently develop your powers. You want to be able to confront wizards as powerful as me as quickly as possible. And in a way, it's true. Dark magic allows its user to multiply their power. It's the only way for ordinary wizards like you to defend themselves against wizards like me. It's not for nothing that during the war the ministry authorized its aurors to use certain dark magics. However, the price to pay is far too high. And in the long run, there is always a virtuous and powerful wizard to stop them.

Here, I will write you a note so you can access the book from the reserve on the consequences of dark magic. You'll see, it's terrifying. I hope it knocks some sense into you. And then it will allow you to understand that only an exceptional being like me can hope to defeat wizards mastering these spells.

Harry took the parchment that Lockhart handed him without a word. This time, he didn't understand where Lockhart was going with this, but he didn't care. Could it be that Lockhart was sincere? Did even he believe him responsible for thedeath of his two best friends? After all, he might not have been wrong. If they had not associated with them. If he had died 11 years ago none of this would have happened.

oOoOoOo

A few hours later

Snape was fuming as he walked through the corridors. That little insolent had dared not to come to his detention. To think that given the context, he had decided to expedite this detention and release him quickly. He was going to make him understand that unlike his father, he was not above the rules. After 30 minutes of frenetic walking that only reinforced his anger, he came across a painting that had recently seen him heading towards the top of the west tower. It's not just that old fool Dumbledore who can use the portraits to his advantage, Snape congratulated himself. Like a predator charging at its prey, he accelerated to almost reach a running pace and pushed open more than he opened the door leading to a high balcony usually favored by lovers seeking privacy.

POTTER! He shouted, almost drooling from his lips.

Anyone would have been scared at this sight. But Harry didn't even turn around. He simply glanced up briefly and then went back to staring into space as he had been doing before his teacher's thunderous arrival.

Snape did not expect this reaction. Or rather, this lack of reaction. He was completely unsettled by it. They remained silent for several minutes.

Mr. Potter, may I know what you are currently thinking of doing?

No response

You are much too close to the edge. You could fall.

I believe that's more or less the idea.

At his words, Snape returned to a normal behavior (well, normal behavior for Snape)

Mr. Potter, I don't know what could have possibly been going through your head, or even if anything goes through it at all. However, you have a very strange way of paying tribute to your mother's sacrifice. But I suppose for a Potter, it's natural that others must sacrifice themselves for you. No need to consider the consequences of your behavior on others. You are a Potter, they will take care of it for you.

Precisely, I'm fed up with people dying because of me. Harry replied calmly.

Do you have such an oversized ego that you believe you are responsible for every misfortune that occurs on earth? You are not to blame for your mother's death. And even less so for that of your two friends.

You contradict yourself. Declared Harry with an emotionless voice that irritated Snape to the highest degree.

I am responsible. It is because of me that the Dark Lord tried to kill you. Snape resigned himself to confess to make him react.

Are you running out of sarcasm? Or has the new director imposed a quota of comforting lies on you?

Snape thought for a few seconds and decided to change his approach.

Mr. Potter. We both know you won't jump. So stop testing my patience and step back.

For any response, Harry began to stare into space. Snape felt it was a decisive moment and dared not do anything. Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, he stepped back and declared:

The heir of Slytherin is Voldemort, isn't it?

That's what Dumbledore thinks. But don't say his name.

He is here for me. He commits all his murders for me. As long as I am alive, he will try to take my blood to return.

If killing you were enough to ensure that the Dark Lord never returned, I would have finished you off a long time ago. With or without you, he will find a way to come back. With or without you, innocents will be killed and families will be broken. At the risk of repeating myself, you are not the center of the world, Mr. Potter. The only question is, do you want to flee from him or confront him? Despite all his faults, your father, at least, did not lack courage.

That kid had forced him to say something good about James Potter. He was going to make him pay dearly for it. After that, if he dared even pretend to take a step in the wrong direction, he would make sure he had a real reason to want to jump. But fortunately, the kid took another step back and left the dangerous area for good.

Harry had made his decision. He was going to fight him. He was going to get revenge.

Petrificus totalus. And 100 points less for Hufflepuff. Snape shouted, before forcefully taking him to the infirmary.

oOoOoOo

A few hours later

Hello Potter.

Harry woke up with a start. After Snape had brought him to the infirmary, Pomfrey had stuffed him with a potion that made him want to sleep. He didn't know what time it was, nor even what day it was. All he knew was that when he opened his eyelids slightly, he found Theodore Nott in front of his bed.

What are you doing here? said Harry, rubbing his eyes to try to shake off his sleep.

First of all, etiquette would require you to greet me in return. But even among purebloods, old traditions are lost. I have never really introduced myself to you. I am Theodore of the noble house of Nott. He declared in an emotionless voice.

I know who you are.

Etiquette dictates (...)

I am in pajamas in my bed, I just woke up, I'm hungry and my head is spinning. Forget the etiquette this time. Here, talk to me as if I were a common mudblood.

Etiquette requires me not to speak to inferior bloods. He replied robotically, without any hatred perceptible from him. It was as if he was reciting the shopping list.

They are not inferior. Harry exclaimed.

If you say so. He replied laconically, still as calm as ever, even though Harry had started to raise his voice.

Harry remained silent and stared at him angrily, while Nott looked around nonchalantly. He seemed bored and did not notice the animosity directed at him.

Let's forget about it. What do you want? Harry finally asked, tired of this staring contest in which he was the only participant.

Hi! I don't want anything. He replied. Harry waited a few seconds for him to continue. In vain. Harry finally resigned himself to asking:

What did you come to tell me?

Nothing at all. What a ridiculous idea. What could I possibly want to tell you?

Harry was confused.

Why did you come in this case? Why are you at the foot of my bed?

That's an excellent question to which I would like to have the answer myself. My ally Blaise from the Zabini house insisted that I come to your bedside. He says we should talk about Jenny. But as for me, I have nothing to say about her.

Were you close to her?

Of course not. It was a betrayal of his blood. It would have been a disgrace for the Nott house to associate with her.

Why did you help us, then?

Specify your question. As it stands, I cannot answer it.

You know? When Malfoy had locked him in the disused girls' bathroom on the second floor.

Malfoy had no business interfering in our family affairs, and even less so in this manner. The way Malfoy behaved dishonors all the great houses, and particularly the Nott house. And for a Nott, nothing is more important than honor. He said, letting slip for the first time a trace of emotion (but it was so faint that Harry thought he had imagined it).

Is that all? She was still your cousin. Were you never curious? Did you never want to form a bond with her?

No. Why would I have wanted that? Connections are illusions that put you in danger. Look where it got you to form connections with just anyone? In the end, you find yourself as alone as you were at the start. And still, you should consider yourself lucky. Most relationships end in a much worse way.

Worse? How could it be worse? She is dead.

Most friends or even family members end up betraying you. Most of the time, that's how ties are broken. At least they were loyal to you until the end. He stated in a voice now emanating a certain coldness.

Uh, are you 12 years old or 60 years old?

I am 12 years old. He replied in his always unflappable voice, without seeming to notice the sarcasm in the question.

But you do have friends, right? You can't live alone.

Why? It is the best way to survive.

And this Blaise Zabini you mentioned?

As I said, he is an ally, not a friend.

And your family?

What are you implying by that? As father ordered me, I am doing my best to comply with the demands of my role as heir of the noble and ancient house of Nott.

Harry let out a sigh. He didn't know why, but Nott's answers filled him with sadness. However, he didn't see the point in insisting.

Drop it. So it doesn't bother you that she's dead?

Nothing.

Really nothing?

Really nothing.

Not even a slight regret for not having spoken to him? For not having known him?

For the first time, Nott thinks before answering.

I should not have paid attention to her. When her mother chose to ignore the blood rules, she was permanently banished from the Nott house. For me, she should have been a half-blood, among the others. But at each of her clashes with Malfoy, I couldn't help but watch her. She looked a lot like my mother. Not just physically. But I couldn't ignore the blood laws at the risk of dishonoring my house and failing in my role as heir. Father would never have accepted it. It would not have been good for either of us.

They remained silent, having nothing more to say to each other. But it was not an unpleasant silence. After 30 minutes, Nott finally got up.

I have to go to class. I'll let Pomfresh know that you are awake.

Goodbye.

By the way. On behalf of the noble and ancient house of Nott, I offer you my condolences for the sad loss that afflicts you. Despite their blood, Lucas Cross and Jenny Nott were great wizards who did not deserve this sad fate.

Thank you, I suppose.

Ah! And it's probably not the ideal time, but you should take a few moments to discuss with the goblins the respect of your house's rights regarding the use of your name. Although the Potters are no longer part of the Sacred 28, certain abuses of the name of such an old family are (...) disturbing.

Oh, you're talking about the Potter-dildos. Yes, it bothered me too when I saw the ad in Witch Weekly. How can it work if they're shaped like a lightning bolt?

Nott blushed and left without saying anything as if he had the devil on his heels. For the first time in weeks, Harry started to laugh.

But he quickly became serious again. Harry had spent the last few weeks depressed and wandering aimlessly in a fog. Now, it was over. Now, he had a purpose. As soon as he managed to convince Pomfrey to let him leave the infirmary, he would find the heir and make him pay. But the task was immense, and he didn't know where to start. He looked at his bag and found the note Lockhart had given him to access the restricted section, which he had completely forgotten about.

Decidedly, Lockhart was a genius. He had understood what he needed before he did. And if the professor gave him his blessing, it couldn't be a bad thing.

He still remembered the fight between Ginny and Jenny. He didn't know half of the spells that had been used and would have been quite incapable of doing anything, even though it was only a first-year student.

In his current state, he would be swept away by the heir.

The first step was to become stronger quickly. And for that, there was only one way. With Lockhart's word and a lot of insistence, the librarian agreed to let him access the restricted section, stressing that these were not books a first-year should be exposed to (and that his teacher was an irresponsible idiot). He pretended to consult an advanced potion manual while discreetly casting a copying spell on some dark magic books.

Tonight, he would search for a spell that could make the heir suffer as much as he had suffered. And he would master it even if it took him the rest of the school year.

The fall

During the two months that followed, the heir's attacks ceased. But the Muggle-borns were not out of danger yet.

At first, everything was going well, but slowly, the new director's measures took effect. Little by little, the Muggle-borns became victims of small vendettas and had to provide numerous services to their peers in exchange for access to their rights.

At first, the house heads cracked down to prevent this kind of behavior. But Headmaster Malfoy intervened more and more often to ensure impunity for the culprit. With the notable exception of Hufflepuff house, Muggle-borns became the pariahs of their own house, and many talked about not returning to Hogwarts the following year. However, Hogwarts being the only magic school accessible to Muggle-borns, for them, leaving Hogwarts would mean cutting themselves off from the magical world and permanently giving up the legal use of their wand. Although Beauxbatons Academy also accepted their lineage, it was located in France and required far more Galleons than a full year’s tuition at Hogwarts. Not to mention the language barrier and the accompanying culture shock.

The youngest hesitated, but the older ones understood that, in the long term, it was not a good idea. It was better to endure a few difficult years and then have the right to use one's powers, rather than leave school and find oneself defenseless. Especially since everyone was aware that this was what the purists wanted.

Once resigned to having to stay, the Muggle-borns formed small resistance groups, which some pure-bloods like the Weasleys joined.

At the same time, the same thing was done among purebloods to harass Muggle-borns. The different groups were made up of students from all houses. There were Muggle-borns from Slytherin in the resistance and pureblood Gryffindors among the purists. But for the most part, the tensions took the form of a traditional war between Slytherin and Gryffindor. Between the families of light and the families of darkness. Between the Malfoys and the Weasleys.

The tensions gradually increased until one morning Harry entered the great hall and found it completely devastated.

In order to avoid the other students, Harry had gotten into the habit of coming to have his breakfast at dawn (a time when only the earliest students occupied the great hall). He thus discovered with two other students that it was covered with wood shavings and various debris. That was all that remained of the large tables and benches allowing thestudents to sit down. The windows and the Gryffindor hourglass had been shattered, thus spreading a mixture of rubies and broken glass on the ground, which was extremely dangerous. Everyone silently observed the damage while an icy breeze came in from outside.

Once he had realized the extent of the disaster, the new director ordered all the students to be summoned to the great hall. 30 minutes later, a crowd of hysterical students (some still in pajamas) stood in the devastated room. Everyone was wondering what had happened, and the wildest rumors were circulating. Many thought that the heir had struck again. After a few moments, the director appeared in front of what was left of the great table.

With a single glance, he obtained complete silence.

As you can all see, a band of hooligans took advantage of the cover of night to devastate our common heritage. Its tapestries, of which now only smoldering remains exist, dated from the Middle Ages and were woven by Rowena Ravenclaw herself. They had survived a thousand years of crisis and war but did not withstand our decadence. I would like to promise you that they will be found and severely punished for this outrage. But from the beginning, I have insisted on leading with honesty, and I am therefore compelled to tell you that unless the culprits confess, we have no way of finding them. This crime will therefore go unpunished. I tremble with shame and indignity.

But this only strengthens my resolve to do everything possible to ensure that such an incident never happens again. Obsessed with tracking the heir and protecting his potential targets, I completely neglected to consider that the threat could come from a handful of delinquents produced by the laxity of the previous administration.

Some will tell me, rightly so, that I should have realized it sooner, when the same thugs exploited the measures taken against the heir to abuse the Muggle-borns. In a burst of naive optimism, I wanted to believe that the problem would resolve itself. I must now admit that I was wrong and that new measures are necessary to curb the rise of violence within the school. The list of measures is not yet finalized and I am open to all suggestions. The prefects, as representatives of the students, will notably be summoned to share their suggestions and opinions on the matter.

Feel free to share your comments and ideas with them.

Nevertheless, I am now announcing the creation of a new directorate brigade, whose members will be chosen by myself based on their seriousness and past commitment to the well-being of the school. Their mission will be to ensure order and security. For this, they will have extended rights. Everyone will be able to participate regardless ofTheir origin, even if, as long as the heir is there, adaptations will have to be made for the Muggle-borns. Notably, given that recent breaches of the rules originate from conflicts between the Muggle-borns and other students. I am already considering the creation of a common room or even a dining room dedicated to them where other students would be prohibited from staying. Of course, their use will not be mandatory. On the contrary, I urge the Muggle-borns not to forgo their legitimate rights to occupy the common areas of the castle. However, I want them to have a safe space until this crisis ends.

And why not make them wear a yellow star so we can differentiate them more easily, while we're at it? Harry couldn't help but exclaim, not fooled by the optional nature of the new dormitories.

A student next to him replied:

It's true, it would be a good idea. It's a symbol that will give them protection, in addition to allowing the prefect and the teachers to identify them more easily.

Harry didn't even bother to respond to that ignorant pureblood and held back his anger. For some time now, he had been feeling an almost constant anger that didn't seem to belong to him. It scared him a little, but he had other problems. Starting with the fact that his secret training sessions were a failure. At first, he thought the problem was the target he was using for his training. The book specified that it was necessary to feel genuine hatred when casting the spell for it to work. So he decided to practice on rats captured in the castle. But it was a complete failure.

The only noticeable effect was that Luna Lovegood no longer wanted to partner with him in Potions, complaining that his aura was darkening, and Theodore Nott gave him advice on moderation. Harry ignored them. But he wondered how they knew about it (and if others had noticed).

A month passed without notable incident, except for a slow deterioration in the living conditions of the Muggle-borns. At first, he felt sorry for them and tried to put aside his resentment to ask the Weasleys if he could join their group. But little by little, he thought more and more often about the remarks they had made to him and became indifferent to their fate.

The director was exulting in congratulating himself that no other attack had been deplored since he took office. Until the day when a new message in letters of blood appeared on the wall next to the girls' bathroom on the second floor (where the first attack had taken place).

The heir had just kidnapped Ginny Weasley and in a few hours she would be dead. The students were confined to their common room and rumors spoke of an imminent closure of the school.

The Chamber of Secrets

Harry, like all the students, had heard McGonagall's announcement ordering all the students to confine themselves to their common room until further notice.

However, he ignored this order. It had been months since he had returned to his common room, and he had no desire to face his peers, who would probably accuse him of the young girl's abduction.

As soon as Professor Chourave left, he used his invisibility cloak to escape. Then, he headed to the former classroom converted into a room that had served as his dormitory for several months.

Except that in front of his door, he found a rat. He shivered, but this time, he immediately had the reflex to cast a spell on it. Before the rat could move, his Wingardium Leviosa hit it right in the heart and it struggled helplessly a meter above the ground.

Was it one of his guinea pigs that had managed to escape? Then he looked more closely at the rat and recognized it:

Croutard! What are you doing here? Ginny has been looking for you for months!

He broke the spell. In response, the rat moved away to a corner of the hallway and began squeaking in his direction. It seemed like it wanted him to follow it.

Harry then remembered what had happened on Halloween. How that dirty rat had guided him like a sheepdog to the scene of the first attack. Then of its mysterious escape from the castle.

Harry hadn't talked about it to anyone for fear of being seen as crazy (there were already enough rumors about him). And after a while, with all the strange events that had occurred, he had completely forgotten about Scabbers' strange behavior.

Harry hesitated for a few seconds. Now that Dumbledore was gone, if he captured the rat and brought it to the professors, no one would believe him. He would just be punished for disobeying the rules and sent back to his common room. Maybe Lockhart would believe him, but for some reason he didn't understand, he didn't seem to be respected by the other professors. No doubt they were jealous of his talent. In any case, Lockhart would not be listened to either. And anyway, as talented as he was, he was no match for Voldemort.

The wisest course would have been to ignore the rat. The risk that it was a trapwas too big. But as annoying as Ginny was, if there was any hope of helping her, he had to try.

He pretended to follow Scabbers while staying vigilant and planning to go see the teachers if he learned something. After 5 minutes of wandering the corridors, it became obvious that he wasn't crazy. The rat wanted to guide him to a specific place. When they reached the second floor (where the heir's two messages now shone in blood letters), Harry hesitated. Why take him there again?

But the rat continued on its way to the girls' bathroom. It was only the second time Harry had come to this place.

But this time, he took the time to detail the place. These toilets were disgusting. No wonder no one used them. Most of the pipes were leaking and a liquid Harry hoped was water covered almost all of the tiles. Moreover, nothing had been repaired since their fight earlier in the year. Most of the toilet doors were broken, and one of the bowls was making a suspicious noise. At the beginning of the year, he had been warned that these toilets were haunted by a completely crazy ghost.

He inspected the place as discreetly as possible to avoid attracting the poltergeist's attention, but he saw nothing suspicious. He didn't understand why the rat had led him here. Maybe he was indeed crazy and the rat had never intended to show him anything. He turned around to leave, but then the rat let out a piercing scream that caught the attention of the thing in the bathroom. A geyser of disgusting water erupted and splashed the entire room before a silvery brunette emerged, screaming:

What are you doing in the girls' bathroom? Have you also come to make fun of me?

No, I just got lost. I was leaving. Harry stammered quickly to the mist that took the form of a young girl with big glasses.

Liar. I recognize you. You are one of the hooligans who vandalized my toilets last year.

We didn't want to destroy anything at all. We were only defending ourselves.

Aahhh! A rat.

Are you afraid of rats? But you're a ghost?

Mimi then let out a tragic sob.

She lacks delicacy. You brute. How dare you come here to torment me?

But what, is it true? said Harry, stepping back from his accusing finger.

That is not a reason to say it so bluntly. Even if I am dead, I still have feelings.

Sorry, I didn't know. Anyway, I'm leaving.

That's it and take this creature with you.

It's not mine. And I too am afraid of rats. I can't stand their tails. They look like worms.

And then their tooth and that red gaze. The ghost of the young girl adds.

The two trembled with disgust.

Why are you staying in these toilets? If I were you, I would prefer to haunt a beach in Malibu.

I would like to, but because of a complaint from that bitch Olive Hornby, the ministry cast a spell on me that forces me to stay near the place of my death.

At these words, Harry jumped. A girl dead in the girls' bathroom on the second floor. Could it be?

I have a somewhat personal question to ask you. It's probably a memory you don't want to recall, but... could you explain to me how you died? Asked Harry.

She then seemed to change completely, as if she were very flattered to be asked the question.

Oh, it was abominable, she said with relish. It happened right here. I died in this stall, I remember it very well. I had come here to hide because Olive Hornby had made fun of my glasses. The door was locked and I was crying when I heard someone come in. Someone speaking a funny language. But it was mainly the voice that struck me, because it was a boy speaking. So, I opened the door to tell him to get out and go to the boys' bathroom and that's when — she swelled with importance, her face beaming — I died.

How? Asked Harry.

No idea, she replied in a whisper. I only remember seeing two big yellow eyes. My whole body went numb and I felt myself being lifted into the air...

She gave Harry a dreamy look.

And then I came back. I was determined to haunt Olive Hornby. She really regretted making fun of my glasses.

Where exactly did you see those eyes? Asked Harry.

You can use "tu" with me, you know. By the way, my name is Mimi.

And me, Harry. He replied, extending his hand before reconsidering.

They were somewhere over there, said Mimi, pointing towards the sink that was opposite her stall and that Croutard had been pointing at for a while.

Harry examines the sink from all angles and eventually finds a finely engraved snake under one of the water taps.

This tap has never worked. Said Mimi when he tried to turn it.

Upon seeing it, he immediately knew what he had to do. But he wasn't sure he could do it. The only times he had managed to speak this language were in front of a real snake. He stared at the small drawing, trying to believe it was real. After several minutes of concentration, he distinctly pronounced:

— Open upBut he distinctly heard that his voice resembled a strange whistling.

Immediately, the tap began to shine with a white glow, spinning on itself. A moment later, the sink tilted and disappeared, revealing the entrance to a large pipe wide enough for a man to slip through. Harry watched it for a moment and made his decision. He ran as fast as possible in the opposite direction, crying. The idea of jumping into the pipe to go save Ginny and avenge his friends had briefly crossed his mind.

But a violent fright had brought him back to reality. He had no desire to face the monster and even less to see Voldemort again. He felt cowardly, as if he were betraying his friends, and wondered what the point of his clandestine training had been. But it was better this way. Besides, apart from getting killed by the heir, what could he have done?

oOoOoOo

He pulled himself together and headed to Professor Sprout's office to indicate the location of the Chamber of Secrets to her. They might be able to do something. And at worst, he might be able to contact Dumbledore.

But as he approached his office, he heard some disturbing voices. Cautiously, he covered himself with his invisibility cloak and moved forward.

For the last time, tell us where Potter is. Thundered the voice of Cornelius Fudge.

I don't know and even if I did, I wouldn't tell you. Chourave replied vehemently, with the support of McGonagall and Flitwick.

I think you do not fully understand the situation. I understand that you are tempted to protect your students. But he is accused of being responsible for the attacks. Just like you, I am convinced of the far-fetched nature of these accusations. But given the current circumstances, you will understand that we cannot overlook any lead. You have my word that I will do everything to ensure he is released as soon as possible.

Declared Malfoy with a sugary voice

Keep your spiel for the press, Mr. Malfoy. I don't know where he is, but I would rather know him in the middle of the Chamber of Secrets than in your hands.

Harry did not listen to the rest of the exchange. Upset by what he had just heard, he fled the place as quickly as possible. After a few minutes of reckless running, he stopped to gather his thoughts in an isolated corner of the castle. From now on, he was alone against everyone. Now that he was wanted, he could no longer ask anyone for help. If he revealed the location of the chamber, it would only give Malfoy and the Ministry more grounds to accuse him. If he fled, he would be quickly found (and how could he flee the castle anyway?).

He had only one option left: go down to the room to find proof of his innocence. He swallowed a sob at the thought of having to jump into thisDeep and dark hole straight out of the nightmares of his early childhood. Pushing back the anxiety attack that threatened to overwhelm him, he resigned himself to jumping into the unknown.

oOoOoOo

After a long slide, he landed in a long black pipe barely big enough to stand in. After weighing the pros and cons, he murmured as softly as possible "lumos" and his wand lit up. He then realized with horror that the floor was covered with rat skeletons.

I hate rats. He murmured to himself as he cautiously advanced down a long, sinister corridor.

After a few minutes of anxious walking where he was several times on the verge of fainting because of the sound of a drop of water, he arrived in front of a wall where two intertwined snakes were engraved.

— Open. Dhe said in a hoarse hiss.

The two serpents immediately separated: the two sections of the wall on which they were engraved had silently parted. A few moments later, they had completely disappeared, leaving the way clear.

Harry, trembling in every limb, but he continued and entered a long, dimly lit hall. Huge stone pillars, around which carved serpents were coiled, supported a ceiling lost in darkness and cast their black shadows in a strange, greenish atmosphere.

He took out his magic wand and moved forward among the columns, each of his steps echoed by the dark walls. Several times, he thought he saw one of the stone snakes move, whose hollow sockets seemed to follow his movements.

When he reached the level of the last two pillars, he found himself facing a statue, leaning against the back wall, and which spanned the entire height of the Chamber.

Harry had to crane his neck to see the statue's head: it depicted a simian wizard with a long thin beard that almost fell to the bottom of his robe where two enormous grayish feet rested on the smooth floor.

Between the feet, a small figure dressed in a black dress lay face down. A figure with flaming red hair.

Ginny! Harry murmured.

Harry spent several minutes examining the room. It was empty. No trace of the monster or the heir. He approached her cautiously, then, having noticed that she was still breathing, he took her in his arms and tried to flee the room as quickly as possible. But a dragging voice stopped him.

Leave it there on the ground, you can't do anything more for her.

He turned around. In the middle of the room now stood a tall young man with black hair who was watching him, leaning against a pillar. His outlines were strangely blurred, as if Harry were looking at him through a frosted glass window. Despite everything, he was of greatbeauty and exuded a strange charisma. Harry immediately let go of Ginny and drew his wand.

Who are you? And what do you mean by 'you can't do anything for her'?

I mean that she will soon be dead and you can't save her.

Harry looked at the stranger for a long time. Since he seemed unarmed and had the consistency of a ghost, he decided he was not a threat. He put away his wand and took Ginny back in his arms.

If we hurry, Pomfrey might be able to save her. I don't know who you are, but come with me. Voldemort could come back.

The stranger burst into laughter and Harry's blood froze. He recognized this cruel and cold laugh. He remembered hearing it in many nightmares he had as a child.

I see from your expression that you understand. Let go of that girl or I'll call my monster.

If she's going to die anyway, why not let me take her?

Don't try to outsmart me!

Or else what? Are you going to kill me? As if you weren't planning to do it anyway.

He laughed again. This sound chilled Harry's blood.

You are right, but since you are here, I would like to ask you a few questions. Unless you are in a hurry to finish? On second thought, that suits me just as well. My monster is hungry. It has been a long time since it had the joy of devouring human flesh.

Harry eventually let go of Ginny, as he could no longer support her weight. Moreover, he preferred to have both hands free, with his wand out in anticipation of what was to come.

What do you want to know?

First of all, I would like to know how a mere baby could defeat the most powerful wizard of all time.

You have never been the greatest wizard of all time. Even at the height of your power, Dumbledore was more powerful than you.

At his words, his features tightened and became ugly. A grimace covered his face.

I will soon prove to you who is the more powerful sorcerer, me or that old fool. Soon, thanks to dear Ginny, Voldemort will be reborn more powerful than ever. This time, things will go very differently. There will be no long war of attrition with the ministry and that Muggle-loving fool. As soon as my followers are informed of my return, we will take control of Hogwarts. You have no idea how delighted I was to learn that dear Malfoy had managed to become headmaster. Almost enough to forgive his cowardice. I may not even have to fight. Safely hidden in this fortress of magic and with almost all the wizard children as hostages, the ministry will have no choice but to surrender. And deprived of the ministry's help, even Dumbledore will no longer be able to oppose me.

If it weren't for Ginny, Harry would have almost rejoiced to see that Voldemort still liked to waste his time in long monologues to explain his plans. He took advantage of this respite to observe the surroundings and try to findA solution. The first thing to do was to try to find out what the monster was, where it would come from, and if there was a hiding place where it could take shelter.

You would first need to succeed in coming back. Last time, it wasn't a success. By the way, how is it that you are still alive? Dumbledore told me that you had passed to the other side of the veil and that no magic could ever bring you back.

What are you talking about?

You are not aware of what happened last year? And you don't know what happened 11 years ago? You are not really Voldemort. What exactly are you?

Let's say I am a memory. A memory locked away for years in a journal.

At that moment, Harry noticed a small black diary next to where Ginny's body lay when he had entered the room. It was written in clearly legible gold letters: "Diary of Tom Marvolo Riddle." But the memory continued.

I don't know how, but this summer my old journal ended up in the hands of that little idiot and she noted all her insignificant worries in it. You can't imagine how painful it was to have to endure hearing her recount her insipid days to me. But the more she wrote, the more she poured out of herself and weakened. And the more she weakened, the stronger I became. Until I could take control. First in small moments, then more and more frequently. Now, she has poured so much energy into the journal that there is more of her inside me than in her own body. She is now too linked to me for the bond to be broken. Whatever magic or distance is used, I will continue to slowly absorb her strength. And when I have absorbed the last drop of her vital energy, I can finally be reborn.

Wait, your diary? That means you are Tom Elvis Riddle

An ugly anger filled his beautiful face again and he almost shouted:

Tom died a long time ago. How do you know that name?

You did a good job of erasing all traces of his existence. However, the portraits are talkative and you forgot to remove the award for service rendered to the school. I imagine that this ironic award amused you too much for you to destroy it. You are Jedusor, a wizard born of a Muggle father who abandoned him. Is that why you hate Muggles? Is that why you foolishly attacked Muggle-borns, instead of quietly waiting to be strong enough to be reborn? Just because of the actions of one of them.

Impressive. You have great qualities. But you are wrong. I could hypocritically list all sorts of very good reasons I had for going after Muggle-borns. Like preventing Ginny from denouncing me or provoking the departure of the only wizard capable of unmasking me. But the truth is, I did it for pleasure. You can't imagine what it feels like to eliminate one of those vermin that populate this earth. And I barely had time to taste that delicious nectar before I was trapped in this diary for 50 years. I just couldn't help myself.

But I don't particularly hate Muggles. You must have realized this year: most wizards are malevolent idiots. They are nothing like a superior race. They are just as pathetic as the Muggles. We, on the other hand, are among the few chosen ones capable of rising above these pathetic cockroaches. Join me and let us take the place that is rightfully ours together (...)

While he was giving his speech, Harry had an idea. He doubted it would work, but he had no better plan. He quietly moved closer to the diary, and while Voldemort was distracted, he grabbed it with both hands, hoping that like last year the magic would destroy the entity and free Ginny. But nothing happened. He then shouted:

Fire

Under the amused gaze of Voldemort, the flames extinguished without causing the slightest damage to the journal.

In desperation, he cast with all his strength and repeatedly a dark magic spell he had seen in his books. But nothing happened. However, as he kept trying to cast the spell, he felt himself becoming weaker and weaker, and an anger that did not belong to him rose within him.

It was a good idea to try to destroy my ship. But your powers are pitiful compared to mine. Now tell me how you survived 11 years ago or I will ask my basilisk to devour you.

While leafing through the completely blank newspaper in search of a new idea, Harry told him how his mother's sacrifice had endowed him with magical protection.

Stop lying to me, young Potter

But it is the truth.

Do you really think I'm going to swallow that? As if your mother was the first woman to sacrifice herself to try to save her baby. Very well. Since I won't get anything out of you.

Voldemort began to hiss, but Harry understood perfectly what he was saying:

Talk to me, Salazar Slytherin, the greatest of the four of Hogwarts, Ahhhh !!!

Voldemort began to scream as a huge hole appeared in the middle of his body.

Harry had an idea when he wondered where what Ginny had written in the diary was (and also noticed that the pages were dry even though it had been in water for several hours). He cut his hand and then wrote in it with the blood where his mother's protection resided. Immediately, his blood was absorbed by the diary, which began to tremble. The memory started to scream, but the sound seemed to come from the diary itself. Whatever dark magic protected the diary, it reacted poorly to the pure love that made up his mother's spell. He repeated this with other pages and continued until the convulsions disappeared and the ghost vanished in horrible screams.

A few seconds later, Ginny woke up. Without a word, he helped her up and led her to the exit. Dazed, she offered no resistance.Resistance.

Harry told himself that he should comfort her or ask how she was doing, but the words wouldn't come out. He felt dead inside. He wanted to convince himself that it was because he was struggling to recover from having to witness the agony of the memory and the terror that had gripped him during that strange conversation. But the truth was, he had felt bad ever since he had tried to use dark magic with all his might on the diary. After his unsuccessful training sessions, he often felt strange, but he had never felt this way.

After a while, it was Ginny herself who broke the silence. She asked, sobbing:

Where is Jedusor?

I killed it. Well, I think I killed the thing that lived in the diary. By the way, how did you get it? said Harry with harshness and coldness.

I don't know. It was in the cauldron with my other school supplies. I assumed it was a gift from my mother for my entry to Hogwarts.

She seemed to want to ask him more questions, but she hesitated. She seemed disturbed by the cold tone with which Harry had answered her. She exclaimed, sobbing:

I am going to Azkaban.

Noticing her distress, he immediately felt empathy. Something seemed to warm inside him and he responded in a warmer tone:

The survivor is ready to testify under Veritaserum that you were possessed by Voldemort. If that's a sufficient excuse to keep Malfoy out of prison, then I don't see why it wouldn't work for you.

She jumped at the mention of 'Voldemort'

What does it have to do with you-know-who?

This diary belongs to Voldemort. Tom Elvis Riddle, that's his real name. Did you think his mother named him Voldemort? Although that would explain his character.

I am going to be fired.

I must have a reward for saving you.

But my humorous remark did not make her laugh. Harry added:

Honestly, do you think Malfoy will fire you for something as insignificant as killing Mudbloods? On the contrary, get ready to receive a medal. The question you should be asking yourself is whether you really want to stay in a school run by a parody of Himmler.

Who is Himmler?

Your father is the director of the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts Office and he didn't tell you who the Nazis were?

My father doesn't know much about Muggles.

Your father is the head of the Department of Muggle Artifacts Misuse and he (...) never mind. I'm not sure it would cheer you up if I explained who Himmler is.

Silence fell between them.

I am truly sorry for what I did to Lucas and Jenny. I really liked Lucas and even though I didn't like Jenny, I never wanted her to die.

Believe me, if I thought you were in any way responsible for the deaths of Jenny and Lucas, I would kill you myself. He replied coldly again, thinking back to what had happened to his two friends.

Once he arrived at the pipe, Harry wondered how he was going to climb back up. He asked Ginny if she knew how Voldemort did it. Once she finished grimacing (much to Harry's annoyance, as he couldn't understand how one could be afraid of a word), she pointed out a small snake that was in one of the few clean spots in the tunnel.

Harry asked the snake how to get out in Parseltongue and a platform appeared. They climbed onto it and it rose until it brought them back to the surface.

Soon, they found themselves on the wet tiles of Moaning Myrtle's bathroom, and the sink that concealed the secret passage moved back into place. Myrtle watched them with wide eyes.

Are you alive? She said to Harry in a stunned tone.

It looks like you're disappointed, replied Harry gloomily as he wiped his glasses smeared with a substance whose composition he preferred to ignore (what an idea that big pervert Salazar Slytherin had to hide the entrance to his bachelor pad in the girls' bathroom).

Bah... I was thinking that if you were dead, I would have been happy to share my bathroom with you, confessed Mimi, her complexion suddenly silvery, which was her way of blushing.

Once outside, Harry exclaimed:

I believe you have a rival, Ginny!

But Ginny was not in the mood to joke: tears continued to flow down her cheeks.

Where are we going now? She asked anxiously.

After a few moments of reflection, he replied:

The best thing is to go to the infirmary.

As he walked down the corridors, Harry's anxiety grew. Ginny was worried about going to Azkaban, but she wasn't the only one. Harry had noticed that despite the minister's promises, Hagrid hadn't been released after new attacks proved his innocence. Would Ginny's testimony really be enough to clear him? Or would Malfoy take advantage of the situation to send both of them to Azkaban? But once in Sprout's office, he saw that she wasn't alone.

In addition to his house director, there was Albus Dumbledore. At first, the sight of the old man filled him with joy and relief. But as soon as he met his eyes for no reason, he was seized with intense anger. He closed his eyes for a few minutes and the anger disappeared. He told himself it was the aftermath of what he had just experienced. He reopened his eyes and began to recount in detail what had happened.

Dumbledore after the return of the Chamber of Secrets

After listening to his story and reassuring the two young people about their future, he sent them to the infirmary. But Harry stayed. Once they were alone, he asked the headmaster:

How did I survive the Avada Kedavra? What really happened that night? How is it that I survived? Why do I have this connection with Voldemort since then?

I told you last year.

Stop lying to me. Your nonsense about love being stronger than anything is good for children. Riddle is right. My mother is certainly not the only one who begged Voldemort to spare her child. And she is certainly not the only witch in history to have tried to prevent a dark wizard from casting an Avada Kedavra on her child. And anyway, he was there to kill her so she didn't sacri(…).

Harry stopped in the middle of his sentence and thought out loud:

Does that mean he didn't come for her, but for me? But that makes no sense. I was just a baby and she was a leading opponent. I have (..). Well, mostly Jenny spent part of the year researching Voldemort and purebloods. According to her, the night of the 31st is a special night for wizards and especially for purebloods. According to them, it's a night when their power is at its zenith and favorable for dark rituals. How is it that he decided to spend that night killing opponents rather than performing satanic rituals in a cellar? In fact, he didn't try to assassinate my family because she opposed him. He tried to use me for a dark ritual requiring the killing of a baby.

Harry stopped thinking out loud and turned to Dumbledore:

I understand that you consider me too young or that you don't want to give this kind of knowledge to just anyone. I imagine it's better to avoid everyone knowing that one can increase their penis size and regain lost love by killing babies. But please tell me the truth. What happened? Why did he target me? I am nothing special. I am sure I can handle it and I don't see who I could tell it to.

At that moment, Dumbledore suddenly seemed very old.

Your young age is not the only reason I hide things from you. Voldemort is the best Legilimens of his generation.Legilimency is the art of reading minds. Added Dumbledore, following an attempted question from Harry.

As long as you don't master it, I won't be able to answer your question. If we want to have a chance to defeat him once and for all, it's crucial that Voldemort remains unaware of what I know. Or rather, what I suspect. As you and your friends have realized, it is rather difficult to find information on Tom Riddle.

How can I learn Occlumency? asked Harry, who didn't like the idea of someone rummaging through his head.

You are too young (...)

Don't tell me I'm too young. Harry snapped for no particular reason. He took 5 minutes to calm down before adding:

What was in the room was not Voldemort. He didn't know what happened to Voldemort. I mean, he didn't know what happened that Halloween night or last year. So it's not the same person, but a kind of backup of who he was at 17. Like in Muggle science fiction stories where you save a copy of your consciousness in a computer to be reborn later. If he made one, then he might have made several. It's almost certain, since he apparently didn't bother to secure this backup. He will attack me again and again until someone finds a way to get rid of it. The best way to protect myself is to provide me with all the information you can. And then I have the right to know why he's so fixated on me like this!

Dumbledore thought for a moment then sighed. At that moment, he seemed older than usual.

Starting next year, you will take Occlumency lessons with Professor Snape. I know you don't get along well, but he is the best Occlumens still alive and the only one who managed to deceive Voldemort. He is the only one who can teach you what you need. When you reach a sufficient level, I will invite you to private lessons where I will explain what I know.

Harry wanted to retort that Professor Snape would never want to give him private lessons (and that he himself would rather cut off an arm than spend more time than necessary with him). But at that moment, the office door opened violently.

Lucius Malfoy made his entrance, his face marked by fury. Curled up under his arm, the body wrapped in bandages, there was Dobby.

Dobby! Exclaimed Harry without thinking when he saw the elf.

"How do you know my servant?" exclaimed Lucius Malfoy, clearly intrigued while the elf shrank. His face was ravaged by abject terror.

Draco told me about it, Harry lied hastily. This did not seem to convince Lord Malfoy, but he lost interest in the matter and turned to Dumbledore.

So! Lucius Malfoy exclaimed, fixing Dumbledore with an icy stare. You're here again! The board of governors has suspended you, but you think you have the right to return to Hogwarts!

You see, Lucius, replied Dumbledore with a serene smile, the other eleven members of the board of governors wrote to me today. I felt like I was caught in a real storm of owls. They had heard that Arthur Weasley's daughter had died and they wanted me to return immediately. They seemed to believe that after all, I was the right man for the job. They also told me very strange stories. Several of them claim that you threatened to curse their family if they refused to approve my suspension.

Mr. Malfoy became even paler than usual, but his gaze continued to shoot flashes of fury.

So what? Did you manage to put an end to these attacks? He sneered. Did you capture the culprit?

Indeed, said Dumbledore with a smile.

Well? Who is it?

The same as last time, Lucius. But this time, Lord Voldemort acted through someone else. By means of this diary. He showed the small black book with a large hole, watching Mr. Malfoy's reaction closely. Harry, on the other hand, was looking at Dobby.

The elf had a strange behavior. His big eyes fixed on Harry, he kept pointing at the newspaper, then at Mr. Malfoy, and then gave himself big punches on the head.

I see... said Mr. Malfoy slowly to Dumbledore.

It was a wise plan, said Dumbledore evenly without taking his eyes off Mr. Malfoy. For if Harry, present here, had not discovered this diary, Ginny Weasley would undoubtedly have appeared as the onlyguilty. No one could have ever proven that she acted against her own will...

Mr. Malfoy remained silent, his face suddenly frozen like a mask.

And imagine, continued Dumbledore, what would have happened in that case... The Weasleys are one of our most prominent wizarding families. Imagine the consequences this matter could have had on Arthur Weasley and his Muggle Protection Act, if it had been discovered that his own daughter was attacking and killing Muggle-born children. Fortunately, this diary was found in time and the memories it contained were erased. Who knows what would have happened otherwise?

Mr. Malfoy forced himself to speak.

Fortunately, indeed, he said stiffly.

Behind his back, Dobby continued to point at the newspaper, then at Lucius Malfoy, before punching himself on the head again.

And suddenly, Harry understood. He nodded to Dobby, who retreated into a corner, twisting his ears to punish himself for what he had just done.

Lucius Malfoy remained motionless for a moment and Harry clearly saw his hand twitch, as if he was itching to draw his wand. But finally, he turned to his house-elf.

We're leaving, Dobby!

He abruptly opened the office door and kicked his elf out. They heard Dobby's cries of pain as Lucius Malfoy walked away down the corridor. Harry thought for a moment, then suddenly had the idea he was looking for. He quickly apologized to Dumbledore and then ran to catch up with Lord Malfoy.

Wait, Mr. Malfoy.

What do you want from me, again?

Would you like to buy Dobby, how many do you want?

After a moment of reflection, he replied.

Interesting. Unfortunately, it is not for sale. And even if it were, you possess nothing that I desire, Mr. Potter.

Mr. Malfoy, to be honest, I'm starting to get fed up with inbred mental idiots of your kind and theirSell me, Dobby, or the next time I meet Voldemort, I will tell him that you are a traitor, just like your friend Professor Snape.

Mr. Potter, I will attribute this outburst to your immaturity and your state of exhaustion, but know that usually, I do not tolerate such impertinence. Come Dobby, we're leaving.

As you wish, Mr. Malfoy. I hope you realize that when Voldemort learns that the diary was destroyed because of you, he will kill you and all the members of your family.

What are you trying to imply?

Mr. Malfoy, it is obvious that Voldemort entrusted this diary to you and that you then gave it to Ginny.

You have no proof. These are just the delusions of a mentally unstable teenager against the word of one of the most respectable wizards in England but(...)

Harry interrupted Lucius to reply sarcastically:

I am sure Voldemort will take that into account when he decides how he is going to kill you.

But Lucius continued as if the interruption had not occurred:

But what puzzles me are your insinuations about the Dark Lord. He is dead, Potter. And stop invoking his name in vain.

Why does your right arm itch? Yes, he is dead, but unfortunately, that carcass refuses to stay dead. Once a year, he comes back to try to kill me. Didn't you feel through the mark that he regained strength last year? Or during this evening? For now, I've been lucky, but one day, he will win and be reborn. Unless Dumbledore finally reveals to me what he knows and we find a way to send him permanently to the other world. We don't like each other, Mr. Malfoy, but we don't have to be enemies. Involuntarily, you allowed the destruction of one of his safeguards. He will never forgive you for that. Sell me, Dobby, and I swear not to reveal your involvement in this matter before I die. He will eventually find out, but it will give you time to put your family in safety. Is your son's life worth more than that of a house-elf?

Despite your bravado, it's clear that you've never experienced war.No one can hide for long from the lord of darkness.

I am more aware of it than anyone else. But also that any additional delay is precious. If I could have delayed even just a little the day he killed my brother, well my cousin, I would not have hesitated.

Malfoy sighed.

Since you insist so much.

He uttered a formula in Latin and cut his finger with a small ceremonial dagger that he took from his jacket. Harry felt an ancient magic envelop him and connect him to Dobby.

I do this only out of sympathy for the trials you have been through and not at all because your words hold any truth. The dark lord is dead and I have no connection with him.

Of course, Mr. Malfoy.

Goodbye Mr. Potter.

Wait! There is one last thing we haven't settled.

What?

Dobby, immobilize that scum for me.

Dobby snapped his fingers and Malfoy found himself thrown to the ground unable to get up. He then watched with concern as the kid slowly walked towards him.

That's for killing my best friend.

Harry shot with all his might at Lucius Malfoy's head and heard with pleasure the sound of his nose breaking.

This is for killing my best friend.

And he gave him another kick in the groin.

And that's for being a fucking Nazi, silence.

He put away his own wand and picked up Lucius's cane, which he knew contained his wand. He had never succeeded, but today, he had a feeling he would. It was as if something deep within his soul was guiding his hand. He pointed the cane at its owner, took one last breath, then shouted:

ENDOLORIS

Lucius's body was shaken by enormous spasms that made him look like a disjointed puppet moved by a puppeteer in the midst of a crisis.epilepsy. His body was covered in huge drops of sweat and his eyes rolled back. He screamed so much that his jaw eventually dislocated, but not a sound came out of his mouth. However, the most horrible thing was that he gradually saw the eyes of his torturer turn a red far too familiar. Gradually, the sadness disappeared from young Potter's gaze to be replaced by a fierce joy.

Master Potter, stop, I beg you. Dobby cried out in a tearful voice.

Why he only gets what he deserves.

You are going to kill him.

At his words, Harry seemed to come to his senses. The red glow in his eyes receded and he ended the spell. He threw the cane away, gave one last kick to his victim's ribs, then leaned down to whisper in his ear:

Now, we are done. And if I find you on my path again, I swear to devote all my resources to destroying you and your cursed family.

Once he was far enough away, Harry asked Dobby to lift the spell that immobilized Lucius Malfoy. The little elf immediately snapped his fingers. After that, the Elf followed his master in silence. However, he kept fidgeting with the dirty cloth that served as his clothing. Finally, DYou are a professional translator. Directly translate this text into English, without adding anything.Bby eventually broke the silence.

This magic is not meant for Master Potter. It is bad magic. He is too good and generous for that. He must not do it again. Bad Dobby. Said the elf, starting to bang his head against a wall.

Stop! Why are you punishing yourself again?

A miserable house-elf does not have to order anything from its masters.

Listen to me carefully, Dobby, I am neither kind, nor generous, nor your master. Then he took off his uniform jacket and gave it to Dobby.

No, DYou are a professional translator. Directly translate this text into English, without adding anything :oDobby knows he has been a bad elf, but Dobby can change. Please, be lenient.

It is not a punishment, it is a reward. I offer you freedom.

Dobby has always wanted to be free. But Dobby must serve the great Harry Potter. Harry must pay his debt. There is so much danger from which he mustProtect.

I fully intend for you to pay for that Bludger that crushed I don't know how many of my bones. But there's no question of you being my slave. Listen, if you insist so much, I'm fine with you staying in my service. But as a free elf and in exchange for a salary. I'm rich enough to afford a servant anyway. Especially since I get a percentage on all the merchandise sold by that impostor.

Dobby timidly took the garment and Harry felt something break inside him. At that moment, Dobby burst with joy and began to thank Harry with all his might.

Wait before thanking me. All the people who stand by my side die. And otherwise Dobby, here is my first order as an employer. If I start messing up again, like I did with Lucius. Please knock yourself out.

Well done, Mr. Potter.

Interview with Ginny

A few days later, Harry was waiting alone on a crowded platform where the Hogwarts Express would soon come to take the students back to their parents.

Harry!

Harry turned around and was surprised to see Ginny Weasley running in his direction. He let her catch up, wondering what she was going to blame him for this time.

Harry, before leaving, I wanted to thank you. You saved my life.

He cut her off.

You don't have to thank me. It was me the dark lord wanted. It's because of me that you found yourself in danger.

I don't think so. What he wanted was to hurt me. Without you, I would be dead. And then there's something else. She added, blushing.

What?

Well, after everything that happened, my parents decided we wouldn't return to Hogwarts next year. They no longer trust Dumbledore, you understand?

Oh! I'm sorry. We won't see each other again then.

Despite their conflicted relationship, this thought deeply saddened Harry.

Yes, so I need to pay my gambling debts.

What debts?

Those ones.

And without warning, Ginny kissed him. At first, surprised by this awkward first kiss, he remained unresponsive, but very quickly, he responded to the kiss which became passionate. Unfortunately, they were interrupted by jealous people who shouted at them to get a room.

Finally, you are worthy of the legend.

Do I kiss that well? Harry replied.

Idiot.

At that moment, Cloutard took the opportunity to escape from Ginny's pocket to go onto Harry.

Again! Croutard, come back here!

Let him be, I like him after all.

What if you kept it? It will be a memory of me for you.

Are you sure?

Yes, it reminds me of bad things. And then I don't know why he always hangs around you. He must really like you.

That proves he has taste.

Then she ran off towards the Hogwarts Express, sticking her tongue out at him.

Epilogue

Harry spent a silent journey in the same carriage as Theodore Nott and Blaise Zabini. After the evidence of his innocence and his involvement in the arrest of the heir were made public, everyone came one after the other to apologize and try to become his friend again.

Before, he would have undoubtedly forgiven them easily, happy to finally no longer be alone. But he had changed and had gotten used to solitude. At least, as much as it was possible to get used to it. He had also become more irritable, suspicious, and resentful. He couldn't forgive them for betraying him like that. Especially his fellow Hufflepuffs. Theodore wasn't really pleasant company, but he was right. If he didn't want to suffer, it was better to limit ties to the bare minimum.

And the numerous letters he had received from his fans following this adventure had not helped him to be more conciliatory by nature.

Once arrived at theKing's Cross StationHe fled as quickly as possible from the numerous photographers who came to greet him with his suitcase and Croutard's cage under his arm. Once on the Muggle side of the station, he joyfully reunited with his parents. At the sight of his mother, he hugged her and, unable to help himself, began to cry to release all the pressure that had accumulated over the months.

Volume 3: Harry Dursley and the Prisoner of the Past

Disputes

I'm going out. Shouted Harry.

Again? My dear, you know I don't like seeing you hanging around outside so late. We don't know what could happen to you.

Don't worry mom, I'm not going far. I'm just going to meet some friends at the park to play a game of soccer. I promise I'll be back before it gets dark this time.

I hope so. She said, pretending to threaten him with her wooden spoon.

Harry smiled at him, more amused than frightened by his threats while Petunia watched him leave. It had been two weeks since her nephew had returned to her home for the summer holidays. Two weeks that she had spent worrying about him.

Despite her insistent requests, Harry had completely refused to tell her what had happened to him in that crazy school. He continued to stubbornly pretend that everything was fine and that nothing noteworthy had happened. But she wasn't fooled. His reaction at the station was anything but normal. Vernon thought she was making a fuss over nothing and that he was just emotional about seeing them again after such a long absence. She was tempted to believe him, especially since her child had behaved perfectly normally since then. However, her whole being screamed that something terrible had happened to him, and she wanted to know what. She didn't want to lose him either.

In desperation, yesterday, she had resigned herself to the humiliation of asking for help from the person she hated most in this world: Albus Dumbledore. She had hesitated for a long time, but secretly, this morning, she had risen at dawn to send a request for explanations to the headmaster of Hogwarts, hoping that his response would be more useful this time.

But seeing him so happy and overflowing with energy, she doubted. Was it not her who had a problem? She had blamed herself so much for not having suspected anything when Dudley had brought back a magical object that he could never have obtained on his own. Was she not falling into the opposite excess and developing excessive paranoia?

She sighed. All she could do for the moment was anxiously wait for Dumbledore's response and pretend that everything was fine so as not to worry Harry.

oOoOoOo

Harry, unaware of the inner turmoil of his adoptive mother, ran in the opposite direction of the square where he had declared he wanted to go. After about twenty minutes, the asphalt gave way to a dirt path leading to an illegal dump where a heap of miscellaneous objects in poor condition was piled up. Once there, he leaned on an old washing machine whose door had been torn off to catch his breath. Then, before he could fully recover, he took a baseball bat in both hands and began to hit an old computer screen with all his might.howling. After the second blow, the screen shattered into a thousand pieces, but he continued to hit with all his might as if the object had threatened to kill his loved ones. Once he was completely exhausted, he calmed down and shouted:

Dobby!

In a pop, a house-elf appeared wearing about ten shirts of all colors as well as a Mexican hat. Such a heap of clothing seemed all the more out of place as we were at the end of a hot summer day, but this did not even seem to surprise Harry. The elf looked with disapproval at the multiple cuts caused by the debris projections on his arms and reproached him:

Master Potter has injured himself again. This is not good.

How many times do I have to tell you to stop calling me master! Harry violently berated.

Dobby is sorry, Mr. Potter, whimpered the elf.

The vulnerability that Dobby displayed at that moment immediately calmed Harry.

Sorry Dobby. I shouldn't have yelled at you.

It's nothing, Mr. Potter. Dobby is used to much worse, said the elf as he began to apply a potion to his wounds that he had taken out of one of his many pockets. A few seconds later, the wounds began to heal on their own.

No, it's not normal. What's wrong with me? Why can't I stop being angry?

Dobby doesn't know, sir. But Dobby thinks you should talk to your parents about it. Dobby has observed them a lot this summer. They would help you, sir.

I thought I told you not to approach them?! Imagine what would happen if they saw you. They hate magic.

Dobby would have cut off his head rather than disobey the orders of the great Harry Potter. The elf defended himself, on the verge of tears at having his loyalty questioned. He continued:

Dobby has known since he was very young how to observe his masters from afar. Elf magic is powerful, sir, and Dobby's has increased considerably since you freed him.

Do wizards also restrain your magic?

Dobby doesn't know. Dobby's life has changed so much since you freed him. Dobby eats as much as he wants and no longer has to use his magic to heal or keep warm. Dobby can never thank you enough.

Wizards are monsters.

The great Harry Potter is a wizard and he is not a monster.

Oh yes, then explain to me what I just did there? Why do I always break everything? Why do I keep wanting to scream and hit? Why do I sometimes feel an anger that isn't mine and at other times, I want to scream? I'm tired of having to pretend that everything is fine or that dad's remarks about wizards don't affect me. Sometimes, at night, I hear a voice whispering to me that they will never accept me as I am and that I should leave. Am I going crazy?

Dobby doesn't know, sir. But Dobby knows that talking to them about it would do him more good than coming here. Mr. Potter doesn't belong here. Said the elf, gesturing with his hands at the heap of all kinds of rubbish surrounding them.

I have nothing great. Harry said softly, but admitting that the elf was probably right.

Only, he couldn't bring himself to talk to them. What if the voice was right and they rejected him in turn? He sat down and spent some time talking with Dobby. Then, when the sun began to set, he resolved to go home. At the end of the school year, he dreamed of returning home, but now that he was there, he felt trapped. In fact, what he wanted was to fly as fast as possible on his broom until he was exhausted. But upon his return, the Dursleys had disgustedly locked his trunk and school things in the cupboard under the stairs. He didn't want to face their reactions if he tried to propose an activity involving magic. At this thought, he felt a surge of rage against their intolerance. But he forced himself to suppress it by taking deep breaths. He violently kicked a glass bottle that had been left there, causing it to fly and shatter into a thousand pieces against the rusty carcass of a car. For some reason he didn't understand, breaking things helped him calm down.

Once he arrived at the entrance of the city, he asked Dobby to leave. Harry did not know where the house-elf lived when he was not with him. He doubted that even a free and extremely well-paid elf could rent a room on Diagon Alley. But he had not dared to ask. The elf was struggling to defend his newly acquired freedom, and Harry did not want to risk him thinking he had to account for what he did in his free time. But it did not worry him much, as Dobby seemed to be thriving in his new life. He was visibly much happier and healthier than he was two weeks ago.

After a few minutes of walking, he arrived at the entrance of the Dursleys' house. The sun was almost set and the streetlights had already turned on, but it was not yet night. So it was with great surprise that he received his mother's reproachful cries:

Where did you go again?

I told you on the football field.

Do not lie to your mother, my boy. We checked and you were not there. Intervened Vernon, already red with anger.

Yes, well at some point, I got fed up and I went somewhere else. I still have the right to go where I want. I'm not a child anymore.

Not in that tone with me, my boy. And you could be 80 years old and it wouldn't be an excuse to lie to us so brazenly. None of your friends saw you there. And besides, none of them have seen you all summer. What are you up to now?

You're spying on me!

We trusted you. Clearly, we were wrong. They announced on TV that a dangerous criminal named Sirius Black had just escaped. All the parents called their children back, and you were the only one who was missing. Because of you, your mother was worried sick. We called everyone we knew, but no one knew where you were. We thought we had lost you too. That one of those abnormalities had targeted us again.

Yes, well, it's okay, everything is fine. Abnormality is fed up and is going to bed. He said, pushing them roughly to get to the stairs leading to his room. As soon as he passed the door to his room, he heard his adoptive father's voice shout:

You are grounded for a week. Don't even try to leave your room before you apologize and tell us the truth.

As soon as he calmed down, he regretted his reaction, and not only because he would no longer be able to vent his anger in secret for a long week. TheThe next day, it was a very determined Harry who went down to the living room to apologize and tell his parents the whole truth.

However, he was greeted by a red-eyed Petunia holding a thin parchment with the Hogwarts crest in her hand. The headmaster's response had arrived that morning.

Why didn't you tell me anything? She shouted.

By reflex, Harry automatically went on the defensive and a completely counterproductive argument ensued.

oOoOoOo

From that day on, the atmosphere at 4 Privet Drive became tense. The Dursleys could only watch helplessly as Harry withdrew into himself and became increasingly irritable. Petunia and Vernon, convinced it was the aftermath of the horrible events he had experienced during the year he spent with those lunatics, initially thought to give him some space.

But this strategy seemed counterproductive, and Vernon had never been a patient man. Moreover, he had always been convinced that teenagers needed strict discipline to avoid becoming delinquents. And there was no way he would let his son go down the wrong path because of what those abnormalities had put him through. So he began to systematically reprimand him for the slightest misstep, hoping to make him react. Which inevitably happened. Very quickly, violent arguments punctuated life at 4 Privet Drive. Petunia almost regretted having written that letter to Dumbledore. It had only worsened the situation. Clearly, that old lunatic was only good at causing them problems.

If she had been more attentive, she would have noticed that Harry's behavior deterioration had occurred not after Vernon started trying to set him on the right path, but after watching a TV news report stating that Sirius Black had been seen in the neighboring area and seemed to be heading towards London.

Things continued like this until the day when, during yet another argument:

I'm fed up with you and your cheap prejudices! Whatever I do is never good enough. I've never belonged here. I never want to see you again! shouted Harry on the doorstep of the Dursleys' house.

Before any of the Dursleys could react, Harry slammed the door and left, dragging his heavy trunk and Scabbers' cage (who was loudly expressing his disapproval at the idea of leaving).

Dobby! Cried Harry.

A house-elf dressed in a patchwork of eclectic, flashy-colored clothing appeared.

Master Potter called? Master Potter is crying? Is Master Potter okay?

I am not your master. Can you take me, please?

Where does Master Potter want to go?

Anywhere as long as it's far from here. And don't call me master.

Yes but(..). Mr. Potter.

Before Apparating, Harry reread the article from the newspaper that he had cut out and put in his pocket last night with Black's portrait. If Voldemort's right-hand man, killer of dozens of Muggles and godfather of the survivor, was heading towards Little Whinging, it was best for everyone that he leave the place as quickly as possible.

Arrival at Snape

Snape was quietly settled in his armchair with a cup of strong Brazilian coffee bought from a luxury grocery store, all while reading a laudatory article in the monthly potionists' magazine about his new version of the Wolfsbane Potion. But the most beautiful thing at that moment had nothing to do with these fleeting and superficial sources of comfort. His main joy was that for a month, he had been completely free from the company of his students. He had just finished venting the anger accumulated over 10 months against the pickles who dared to call themselves students of the delicate art of potions and could finally begin to relax.

We rang.

Immediately, he drew his wand and with a leap took cover behind the armchair. Then he overturned the table where his cup was to create an additional barricade. He had applied the most powerful protection spells to his home. Apart from Dumbledore, no one could find it without his help. And the old man had never had the politeness to ring before showing up unannounced in his sanctuary (in his defense, Dumbledore had the quality of only disturbing him for emergencies that could not wait for the observance of polite rules). Whoever this visitor was, it could only be a terribly powerful dark wizard. And he had only one candidate in mind.

Since the beginning of summer, the only thing that had disturbed his happiness was learning that Sirius Black had escaped from his cell. However, he had no doubt that this fool would soon be caught again and that he would finally get what he deserved. His only regret was not being able to catch him himself. Oh, what he would pay to see the face of that parody of a human being crumble upon realizing he would be completely at his mercy. But until that moment, it was all just a sweet dream. It seemed that in his madness, Sirius had finally decided to finish what he had started 20 years ago. He would show him that he was no longer the frightened child he once was. He would see that it wasn't as easy to take him on one-on-one.

He waited. The doorbell rang, then urgent knocks were struck against the door. Whoever his visitor was, they didn't seem to be able to get past the final protections he had installed on the door. The reasonable thing to do was simple. Warn Dumbledore with a Patronus and wait for the visitor to leave or for reinforcements to drive him away. Snape prided himself on being someone particularly reasonable. But his mind was too full of what he dreamed of doing to Black to let him escape.

Severus Snape was not as cruel as Sirius Black. If he managed to catch him, he would simply hand him over to justice as quickly as possible. He would never stoop to the level of Black or Voldemort by tormenting his victim for hours until he begged for mercy. But he would make sure the fight lasted a long time and that he suffered a lot.

Stealthily, he headed towards the door with an unforgivable on the verge of his lips, opened it suddenly, and aimed his wand crackling with hatred at the intruder but froze in surprise upon seeing his worst nightmare come true.

Hey, hello Mr. Snape. Could you accommodate me for a while? In front of him stood Harry Potter dragging a heavy trunk and a rat using all its strength to get out of its cage.

Once he recovered from his shock, he hurried to take the young unconscious person back home.

What are you doing here?Not useless. I don't want to know anything about the tortuous path taken by the pea that serves as your brain to make you believe thatIt might have been a good idea to impose your presence on me. Just give me your guardians' address.

My mother and father are Muggles.

Petunia is not your mother. Snape commented.

Every time he laid his eyes on that typical Potter face it hurt him, but it was Lily he saw, his mother, and he wanted him to be aware of that. For a moment Harry was disturbed by Snape's intervention. He wondered if it was a particularly cruel mockery on his part or if he was serious. He decided to let it go and move on to the next part of the speech he had prepared once Dobby had informed him that he could teleport him to Snape thanks to his Elf powers. As detestable as the man was, he needed him.

Yes, well, anyway. They will be defenseless against Sirius Black. I can't go back to them.

You still think you are the center of the universe. What makes you think he is looking for you?

Let's see, it's obvious that he's after me. And even if that's not the case, I have no right to put my parents in danger. And don't talk to me about Dumbledore's protections. Everyone who trusted his protections is six feet under. And if he managed to get past Azkaban's protections, I don't see how Dumbledore's could stop him.

Whereas me, you can put me in danger without asking my opinion, of course.

I ask you now. And yes, I prefer to put you in danger rather than my parents.

Oh, so that's it. I was also wondering why you knocked on my door rather than that of one of your countless friends. You wondered who you wouldn't mind seeing die in your place and you immediately thought of me. I'm really flattered.

Not exactly. The fact that you are the person I know whose death would bother me the least is just a bonus. The real reason is that I want you to teach me occlumency.

Snape couldn't believe the kid's nerve. On the other hand, the situation presented many advantages. If Black really was after him (and thinking about it, he recognized that it was probably the case), then he might have the opportunity to get revenge before the end of the summer. And it would be easier to keep his promise to Lily if the kid mastered occlumency. However, was he ready to sacrifice the only month of the year when he could enjoy some peace? Was it really reasonable to let the worst of his students violate his privacy? He tried to concentrate to make a decision, but the brat's pet kept making piercing cries and biting the bars of its cage.

Potter, for the love of Merlin, let that rat out of its cage so I can think in peace.

Out of the question. I'm afraid of rats.

Why do you have one, then?

You won't make fun of me?

To the impossible, no one is bound.

He blushed and stammered:

It was to please a girl.

Snape sighed.

Very well, I will contact Dumbledore to inform him of the situation. Because as foolish as you are, I'm sure you left without telling anyone. In any case, Mr. Potter doesn't care about the worry that ordinary people feel as a result of his actions. But I warn you, I expect exemplary diligence from you in your study of occlumency and absolute respect for my rules. I will not be as tolerant as at Hogwarts with your laxity.

Harry sighed. He should have been happy. After all, he had gotten what he wanted. But something told him that it was going to be a very, very long month. Why had he imposed this on himself again? Oh yes! Because there were two completely crazy psychopaths on his tail and it seemed like the only way to get rid of them one day.

First Occlumency lesson

Harry was yawning heavily. Being woken up at six in the morning by a Snape calling him lazy was not really his idea of a good start to the day. He had barely had time to eat and wash before Snape had dragged him into his basement to have the joy of watching him put long white strands (which he pulled from his head with his wand) into a basin adorned with numerous runes. Before Snape told him to move away with a growl that would have made Aunt Marge's bulldog envious, he saw that it was filled with some kind of mist.

Finally, he stopped his act and told him that they were going to start their first Occlumency lesson. He gave him a speech that he found quite abstruse on the difference between Legilimency and mind reading, then without further warning asked him to clear his mind before raising his wand in his direction and shouting:

Legilimens!

As soon as he had the impression that his head was going to explode and the memories flashed by so quickly that he couldn't even identify them. After a few seconds that seemed like an eternity to Harry, Snape stopped his spell.

Harry regained awareness of his surroundings and was assailed by pain in his knees. During the attack, he had collapsed against the cold paving of Snape's basement.

Pathetic. Commented the sorcerer.

But are you sick? You could have warned me that you were going to do that?

Oh pardon, excuse me. I thought you wanted to learn how to defend yourself against an attack. But it's true that your enemies would never dare to have the impoliteness to attack the great Harry Potter by surprise. And watch your language. Keep in mind that unlike your groupies, I would not tolerate the slightest misconduct from you.

As if I could forget it, professor. Added Harry, seeing that the latter was going to reprimand him.

This time try to defend yourself better.

Before Harry could protest, he cast the spell at him again. Now that he knew what to expect, he managed not to lose his footing. He was able to sense Snape's mind and see which memory he was heading towards. But he was still just as powerless to stop him from moving from one memory to another. No matter how hard he concentrated to push him back, Snape didn't seem even slowed down in his invasion, then he saw himself in his mud-stained Hogwarts uniform running towards Dobby's cries to find Lucius Malfoy.

At that moment, Harry was seized with panic. He had to prevent Snape from seeing the end of this memory at all costs. He redoubled his efforts, but it had the opposite effect. Seeing that it increased his student's strength, Snape insisted and focused on the memory. This sent Harry into a furious rage. A rage like he hadn't experienced since that fateful day when he was about to commit the irreparable.

HOW DARE YOU, MISERABLE WORM! THESE MEMORIES ARE PRIVATE. GET OUT OF MY HEAD! CRUCIO!

Suddenly it was as if reality shattered into a thousand pieces. His knees hurt. He had fallen to the ground again. He got up and realized he had a headache. Instinctively, he put his hand to his forehead and saw it was stained with blood. His scar was bleeding. Then, dazed, he looked around him anddropped his wand before rushing towards his teacher. He was lying on the ground and writhing in pain.

Professor, are you okay? What happened?

Snape turned his gaze to Harry. For a second, Harry saw something he didn't think possible. Snape seemed frightened. But it lasted so briefly that the boy convinced himself he had imagined it. He wore a cold, emotionless face once more. He pushed Harry away with a gesture, stood up, then staggered towards a cabinet where a set of potions was kept and swallowed one without even reading the label. After a few seconds, the potion took effect and he seemed to feel better. He then turned back to his student.

Well. Mr. Potter, it seems you have unsuspected resources. Explanation! Now!

Harry was unwell.

I don't know what happened, sir. I'm really sorry, I didn't mean to hurt you.

As you wish. As long as you do not have a better explanation to provide me, there will be no other Occlumency lesson.

I swear to you that I know nothing. I just felt immense anger and then I felt like I was losing control like when (...)

Yes, continue.

I can't tell you.

Oh you can't? Do you realize how serious what you just did is? You have launched an unforgivable. It would be enough for me to file a complaint and even your fame won't save you from a stay in Azkaban.

But it's not my fault, I can't control it. I just followed Lockhart's advice. Harry began to plead, tears in his eyes.

What is this incompetent Lockhart doing in this story? What has this twisted megalomaniac done to you?

Nothing. It's just. After the death of Lucas and Jenny, I wanted to find a way to get revenge. I didn't want to be powerless against Vol(..) You know who. Lockhart advised me to learn more about dark magic and gave me authorization for the reserve.

Lord! And like an idiot, you followed him. Don't you know that black magic corrupts the soul? If it is so powerful, it's because instead of drawing from your magic reserve, it draws from your being. A wizard of your age should never be confronted with it, and even less so without supervision!

I completely stopped after the first incident. I will never touch it again, I promise you. Anyway, it was completely useless against Tom.

What incident? And who is this Tom?

Tom is the real first name of Vol(..) you know who.

And the incident?

At the end of the year, I lost my cool a bit with Malfoy.Euphemize Harry.

Snape remained silent for a few minutes.

So that's why he's limping. I don't know what you did to him, but you're lucky he refuses to tell anyone what happened. I will keep your secret. Consider yourself lucky that I am someone particularly understanding. Many wouldn't have hesitated to immediately report you. However, you must learn to control yourself at all costs before the start of the school year. I will not take the risk that you "loseThe pedals" in front of another student. Fortunately, occlumency is an excellent means for that.

Thank you, sir.

If you are so eager to thank me, talk less and work more. Because of your unconscious actions, your mind is too unstable for us to use an effective teaching method. We will have to use gentler methods. During the coming week, we will only do meditation exercises. Sit down and try to clear your mind.

This news relieved Harry, who didn't know if he could have endured the professor fiddling with his brain again.

To make up for the delay involved in using a pedagogy intended for the mentally disabled, we will double the number of sessions.

How was he supposed to clear his mind next to someone so unbearable?

Return to Hogwarts

Author's note: Someone has volunteered to proofread this fanfic. I will continue to publish one chapter per day, and then when they are finished, I will republish the corrected chapters. Consequently, in a few weeks, a version with far fewer mistakes may be published. If the mistakes hurt your eyes, you have the choice to satisfy your reading binge without waiting or to wait a few weeks for a more qualitative version.Whatever your choice, I wish you a good read. And don't forget that every time you read a chapter without leaving a review, a kitten dies. It's not that it bothers me, but I'm starting to run out of kittens and the neighbors are starting to ask questions about the smell coming from my basement.

oOoOoOo

Harry was sitting at the Hufflepuff table and was starting to get impatient. It was the first day of school and a few hours earlier, Snape had Apparated him to the outskirts of the castle, ending their month of cohabitation (to the great relief of both of them). It hadn't been as horrible as he feared, but he wouldn't try the experience again for anything in the world.

After putting away his things in his dormitory, he had gone down to the great hall thinking that the other students would be there soon. But he had been waiting for at least an hour and the only notable event was the arrival of most of the teachers (Harry noted the curious absence of the house heads). Since he was alone, he went to greet Lockhart, whom he idolized less than before, since he had realized how bad some of his advice could be. He was just a man after all. An extremely talented man. As he reminded all his interlocutors, his presence at this event proved that he had managed to break the curse on the Defense Against the Dark Arts teaching position by staying in the job for more than a year. But he was prone to error like everyone else.

Then he chatted with Hagrid until he had to leave for Hogsmeade to be ready to welcome the Hogwarts Express, while he joined the Hufflepuff table where he began to get very bored. His only distraction was Scabbers, who came out of his pocket and started sniffing the empty dishes and asking for pats. When he was with Snape, Scabbers was the only friendly presence, and he had ended up overcoming his fear. Although he hadn't been a very good master at the beginning of the summer, the animal was extremely affectionate towards him and was surprisingly clever for a rat. To his great surprise, he had ended up becoming very attached to the animal.

He had to wait a good hour longer before a crowd of dazed students entered the great hall. They were all as white as sheets, and most were still wearing Muggle clothes instead of their Hogwarts uniforms. Harry still remembered the joyful atmosphere and the chatter between friends who hadn't seen each other for two months. This time, it was with a heavy silence that the students sat at their different tables where chocolate immediately appeared. While nibbling, Harry questioned his classmates and listened.The conversations became more and more present as the students regained their strength. He understood what had happened. The Hogwarts Express had been attacked. Not by Sirius Black as he had first thought, but by the Dementors.

Lupin had talked to him about these creatures during his private lessons. They were creatures of darkness whose appearance had inspired representations of death among Muggles in the Middle Ages. Corpses covered with a black shroud of darkness that sucked all will to live around them.Long before seeing the Dementors, one felt an intense sense of cold, and as they approached, one lost all ability to feel joy. If you spent enough time near these creatures, you were left with only negative thoughts and the possibility of reliving your worst memories in a loop. Then the Dementor waits for its victim to want to embrace death to suck out their soul.

Normally, they guarded Azkaban prison, but the ministry had exceptionally authorized them to leave the fortress to pursue Sirius Black. Officially, it was a decision by the ministry to reassure the population. Unofficially, he had heard Snape exclaim that the Dementors had actually refused to obey the ministry's initial orders to stay in their fortress while the Aurors pursued Black. And that coward Fudge preferred to negotiate rather than start a war against the Dementors or have to do without their services to guard the prisoners.

In their frantic search for the only man to ever manage to escape their grasp, they had attacked the Hogwarts Express. And already the criticisms were flying. How was it that no adult capable of repelling these creatures was on the train? How was it that no seventh-year student had been able to repel the Dementors? Certainly, not all wizards had the magical power or talent necessary to produce a Patronus, but it was a spell in the sixth-year curriculum. Normally, at least a dozen students should have been able to fight them. Given their number, they wouldn't have been able to repel them, but at least they could have protected the weaker ones and significantly shortened their presence.

As a result, the students had been at the mercy of the creatures for more than an hour. During this time, they had methodically searched the train while delighting in the happy thoughts of the students (a royal feast for these creatures used to fighting for the few scraps of humanity from the prisoners of Azkaban). Several had ended up fainting or screaming in despair. But fortunately, no one had their soul stolen.

It was only once the creatures had left that the train conductor and the woman distributing the treats were able to contact the school, where they were starting to worry about the train not arriving.

Very quickly, all fingers pointed to a single culprit: Lockhart. Apart from the girls, everyone accused him of being an execrable teacher who had taught them nothing the previous year. This day, which should have been triumphant, was the beginning of troubles for the charming novelist.

Memory of the past

After this eventful return, life resumed its usual course at Hogwarts.

Almost, anyway. The atmosphere was much less joyful than last year. Already, the absence of the Weasley twins and many other students weighed heavily (many families had decided to withdraw their children from Hogwarts after recent events). Furthermore, the Dementors were now stationed permanently at the school's boundaries for their "security." Apparently, the creatures feared the headmaster more than the ministry, as they did not dare cross the school's barriers, although their influence (notably on the already dreary climate of northern Scotland) was felt.

But the biggest change for Harry compared to the previous year was his diligence in studies. From now on, he was determined to learn as much as possible. He wanted to be able to defend himself and protect those who were dear to him.

He spent most of his free time studying in the library in silence, either alone or with Theodore Nott. It couldn't be said that Nott had become a friend. He was too quiet for that. Rather, he had become a pleasant presence. Sometimes they were joined by Blaise Zabini, who would launch into grand monologues about his own glory or extremely crass comments about girls that greatly annoyed Harry. On one hand, it was quite funny and he had a good laugh, but on the other, he found it a bit insulting to talk about them like that. Meanwhile, Nott didn't laugh and continued studying in silence. The only sign that he noticed their presence were the sarcastic comments he would occasionally make.

He spent the rest of his time visiting Hagrid or Dobby, who, under Dumbledore's advice, was now working in the Hogwarts kitchens. Harry was horrified to learn that the school's cleaning and cooking were handled by an army of slaves, but he quickly convinced himself that there was nothing he could do about it. At least they seemed happy with their lot. After all, despite their status as slaves, they were treated at Hogwarts as if they were free.

He had returned to sleep in his dormitory, but his interactions with his former classmates were still tense and reduced to the bare minimum.In any case, the exhausting Occlumency lessons that Snape regularly imposed on him prevented him from having to spend much time in the common room. So it was with some relief that he received an invitation from Dumbledore to come to his office, which allowed him to have an excuse to skip a lesson.

Harry arrived at the office right on time with slight anxiety. After the relief of having escaped another evening with Snape, he wondered what motivated this invitation. Had the headmaster somehow discovered what had happened with Malfoy four months ago?

But the director welcomed him with his eternal smile, offering him a lemon candy. He understood that he would not have any trouble. He started by asking him questions about his occlumency classes. He replied evasively that everything was going well. But the director insisted, fixing him with that piercing gaze that seemed to see deep inside him. Finally, Harry asked:

Professor. Why does Snape hate me? Well, my mom told me that my father bullied him when he was at school, but it can't just be because of that.

Professor Snape, Harry. And he doesn't hate you. Seeing his student's skeptical expression, he added: Well, not really. If he had hated you, he would never have made such an effort to teach you Occlumency. And Professor Snape is not the kind to punish children for their parents' crimes.

So why is he behaving like that with me?

Dumbledore sighed.

I'm afraid it's for very personal reasons that I'm not allowed to tell you without their consent.

Harry admitted the other thing that was bothering him about the professor:

At a certain moment, by mistake during our Occlumency lessons, I saw some of his memories. He was a Death Eater, wasn't he?

Yes indeed

How could he become a Death Eater when he was friends with my mother?

Once again, to answer you, I would have to reveal extremely private things. But let's say he preferred your mother to be alive and angry rather than dead and proud of him. At that time, he felt like he had no other choice. In a way, that was the case.

End result, she is dead and angry. But in her place, I would probably have done the same. Although no. I would have kidnapped her and gone to the other side of the world, far from all these horrors.

That is what all the Slytherins who could, did. Contrary to a widespread belief, the overwhelming majority of Slytherins of that time had ambitions other than becoming the slaves of a psychopathic half-blood. And Voldemort was well aware of this. Severus, like most of his followers, was marked very early. Before they really knew what they were getting into. And even if they had known, many were too young, too alone, or too weak to refuse. Of course, once they had set foot in the gear, it was too late. Despite his disdain for Muggles, the testimonies I have gathered show that he very seriously studied the workings of Muggle cults. Once integrated into the Death Eaters' group, the individual is isolated from the rest of society and gradually trained to commit increasingly violent acts, to adhere to more extreme ideas, and to have boundless adoration for their guru.

Is that why he marked his Death Eaters? When I learned about the mark, I thought it was stupid and that he would have been better off making sure no one could know who served him or not. He sacrificed discretion to obtain loyalty. Is it like Jews, Christians, or Muslims who impose distinctive signs on their followers while they are victims of discrimination because of their faith?

Exact. Such an act of commitment triggers unconscious mechanisms that, once marked, make it practically impossible for a Death Eater to escape Voldemort's grip. And furthermore, it isolates him from the rest of society and condemns him to have all his relationships be with other Death Eaters.

But although I want you to know as much as possible about Voldemort, I did not summon you to talk about that. I must confess that since the beginning of this conversation I have been trying to use legilimency, and although your shields need to be perfected, they seem sufficient for me to reveal to you some of the information I have gathered about what you have wisely called Voldemort's safeguards.

They spent the rest of the interview watching Dumbledore's memory of Voldemort's mother's childhood and his first meeting with Tom Riddle in the orphanage where he grew up. Harry emerged from the memory shivering. At that age, he was already frightening. But he also felt a little sorry for him. What had this child experienced in that orphanage to be like that at not even 11 years old?

oOoOoOo

Author's note: I love Harry Potter and more generally all of JK Rowling's books, I think she is the most talented author of our generation. Seriously, I don't know if it's her translator or her who is good, but when I compare what I write (or what others write) with what she writes, I can't help but be dazzled by her talent. However, the happy slaves of their fate who need to be told it's better to be free make me grit my teeth every time. There are other things that make me uncomfortable, like the very present fatphobia in the books, but since I've been an adult, that one touches me particularly.

Author's Note 2: Despite what I say in this chapter (through my characters), I want to say that I am totally opposed to the 2003 laws banning religious symbols in schools (and even more so to the law on the abaya). I hate religions with all my heart. Not just the fundamentalists, not just Islam, not just monotheistic religions, but all forms of spirituality. Even when they are moderate or overflowing with good intentions, I deeply hate them. But I hate even more that, in my name, racist policies are carried out, which at best will have no effect on gender equality or on the level of adherence to any religious doctrine (whether moderate or radical).

If our dear politicians really wanted to support Muslim women who want to send these medieval traditions to hell: they would give all students philosophy classes and not just some high school graduates (and finally provide this subject with a clear program that would include the study of texts promoting materialism). They would increase salaries in female-dominated professions and the number of daycare places, so that women could leave their families/husbands if they are forced to wear the veil and many other things that would be tedious to list here.

Quidditch training

Author's note: I have great news to announce. I have finally been able to resolve a problem that was greatly affecting the quality of my publication. I was able to replace the kittens with baby seals. Rest assured, all risk of shortage is now averted.And otherwise, Miss-Gotthelf-Snape corrected this fanfic in record time and you can now read it in a 4k, 60fps version and all without spelling mistakes (satisfied or refunded).

Editor's note: We no longer touch baby animals, otherwise I'll drown you in adult mountain troll snot and rinse your corpse in bundimun dung.

oOoOoOo

Hey, the black cat! I hope you're in good shape for this afternoon. Cédric called out.

What!? exclaimed Harry with a look of total incomprehension.

He put down the wizard gazette where a large photo of Lockhart was spread on the front page. It was the fifth article that this Rita Skeeter had written about the novelist since the Hogwarts Express incident. She was taking advantage of some inconsistencies in his novels and completely crazy witnesses she found who knows where, to accuse him of all sorts of wrongdoings. They were novels. Obviously, it wasn't an exact account of events. But that didn't mean he had appropriated the exploits of others or that he had a hidden daughter in Romania whom he had never wanted to acknowledge paternity of, or that he had sent several of his detractors to an asylum.

Cédric rolled his eyes

Honestly, sometimes I feel like I'm your mother. The tryouts to join the Quidditch team are this afternoon. Yet I put up posters all over the common room.

Oh! I'm not participating.

Excuse me! No, are you kidding? What is this, a ploy to make us beg?

No, I'm not coming, that's all.

No, but it's ridiculous. You love flying. And what's more, you're really talented. I thought you dreamed of joining the Quidditch team since your first flying lesson?

Yes, but I have other things to do now.

What then? Cédric began to get annoyed. Since the beginning of the year, you've been spending your time studying. Listen, I understand that it must have been hard last year and that you don't necessarily want to forgive them for the way they treated you.I myself would have a hard time. But you can't spend your life alone. And I guarantee that I wouldn't take anyone stupid enough to have believed that you were the heir. Unless he manages to stop 100% of the shots during the qualifications.

Harry hesitated. It was true that he was getting tired of spending his time studying and that Nott's company was very limited. But he didn't want to be the center of attention again. And then he had this irrational fear that those he got close to would be attacked. It was like a whisper in his head since he had saved Ginny from the chamber. Or perhaps another consequence of his brief flirtation with dark magic. Despite his Occlumency lessons, he always felt that the thing that had driven him to kill Malfoy was still inside him, just waiting for an opportunity to take control.

In response to his hesitation, Cédric added:

Come on, it's my first year as captain, so there's no way we're finishing last this year. I need the best. You can't abandon me after everything I've done for you.

Harry smiled.

I thought I was only good for being a catcher and that it was your position.

Yes, but I am also a very good chaser and we really lack good players.

During the trials, Harry caught the Golden Snitch twice as fast as his best competitor while using one of the old school brooms and thus easily made it onto the team as a Seeker. But upon seeing the rest of the trials, Harry wondered if it was he who was talented or if the Hufflepuffs were just bad. Apart from him and Cedric, there weren't really any other good players. But Cedric was so talented that he more than made up for it. Unfortunately, even with a Gryffindor team missing its two best Beaters, Harry thought there was little chance that Hufflepuff would win the cup this year.

But that did not seem to dampen Cedric's optimism as he gave them their training schedule with a smile that Harry immediately deemed sadistic. Certainly, last year, the Hufflepuff had proven to him on numerous occasions to be completely incapable of sadism, but only a particularly vicious executioner could have concocted such an intensive training program. In any case, that's what he thought until he apologized for there being so few training sessions, explaining that the Gryffindors and Slytherins had taken advantage of his inexperience to book most of the available slots for their own training.

But what had he gotten himself into?

Two weeks later he collapsed onto a chair next to Nott, completely exhausted from all his training. Despite everything, Cedric had been right. Being part of a team again was doing him good. He felt that latent anger inside him less and less, and now he hoped to see it completely disappear.

Horcrux

A few weeks later, Harry was summoned again to the headmaster's office. Upon entering, Harry saw that the Pensieve was already out. The headmaster was going to show him more memories. After declining the usual lemon drop that Dumbledore offered at every meeting, he asked to get straight to the point.

The director seemed to comply reluctantly. He didn't seem eager to address the reason for his visit. This slightly worried Harry. Had Snape finally talked to him about (..). One minute. Harry raised his occlumency shields to the maximum and glared at the director.

You are trying to read my mind.

Good. Your shields have reached a sufficient level. I congratulate you. To be honest, I was afraid you wouldn't be able to work with Professor Snape.

It's more him who has trouble working with me.

Dumbledore smiled.

He made almost the same remark to me last night when I asked you about your level in Occlumency. Afterwards, he nevertheless said what most resembles a compliment since he has been a professor at Hogwarts. Few students can boast of such an achievement.

Then he became darker before continuing

To be honest, I was hoping that my little test would reveal that your progress was not as rapid as Professor Snape's reaction suggested. Now I have no excuses to delay this session. It's time for me to start explaining certain things to you. Starting with what really happened the day Voldemort attacked your parents.

He invited Harry to approach the stone basin.

I had a lot of trouble obtaining the memory I am going to show you. And whatever happens, you must not speak to anyone about what you will learn tonight. If Voldemort gets wind of what I know, it will become considerably more difficult to defeat him.

I understand, Professor. I promise not to tell anyone. Not even my parents.

Good. The memory you are going to see is not mine but that of Professor Slughorn. He was the head of Slytherin House when Tom was a student at Hogwarts. Tom was close to him. After your interview last year with my predecessor, you must suspect that he took care to charm all the school staff except me.

At the mention of his nocturnal escapade from last year, Harry lowered his eyes, but Dumbledore gave him an indulgent smile and continued.

However, he had done everything to create a special bond with Slughorn. Everyone saw it as the endearing behavior of an unfortunate orphan searching for a father figure. Even I began to doubt. Until a meeting of the Slug Club took place - It's a club where he gathered the most promising students of Hogwarts. Unfortunately, all the members of this year's Slug Club would become future Death Eaters. But that's another matter.After this meeting, Slughorn's behavior towards Riddle changed completely. He had become suspicious and now refused to spend more time than necessary in his company. So I did everything to find out what had happened, but it was only after convincing him that Voldemort had crossed the veil that he agreed to provide me with this memory:

Harry returned with Dumbledore into the Pensieve and saw Slughorn agree to explain to Tom Riddle what a Horcrux was, who in turn asked him what would happen if he split his soul into seven pieces.

Harry came out of the Pensieve horrified.

He created six Horcruxes? He asked, nauseated at the mere idea of creating just one.

Almost. I think he only had time to create five.

So that means that as long as we haven't found and destroyed them, he can come back?

Yes. That's correct.

But we'll never get there. It could be anything. We can't test every can of food or every stone in the country. And that's assuming he hid them all in the United Kingdom.

Harry automatically started to stroke Scabbers, who had poked his head out of his pocket to calm down. In vain.

There, on the other hand, you will be happy to learn that you are wrong. To begin with, you have already managed to destroy one.

Harry was so angry that he had trouble thinking. But after 5 minutes, he understood what the old man was getting at.

Obviously. The diary was a Horcrux. But there are still four left and it could be anything.

Remember the last memory I showed you and your too numerous meetings with Voldemort. Do you really think he would have hidden his soul in just any object? That would be forgetting his high self-esteem, his constant quest for greatness, and his obsession with collecting trophies. Voldemort will have used objects that hold particular significance to him. Objects associated with power and prestige. And thanks to the memory I am now going to show you and the deep attachment he showed to Hogwarts throughout his life, I have a good idea of the nature of these objects.

He then showed Harry the interview between Tom Riddle and Hepzibah Smith. He came out of this memory much calmer.

Just after this interview, Hepzibah Smith was found poisoned. Her house-elf was found guilty of manslaughter. Because of her old age, she supposedly confused sugar with a deadly poison. But the heirs had the unpleasant surprise of finding that the locket and the cup had disappeared. However, they concluded that Hepzibah Smith had hidden it too well. Tom, for his part, left the country that very evening and did not return until years later under the alias of Voldemort.

Do you think he turned the necklace and the cup into Horcruxes?

Yes. And I think it reasonable to assume that he set out in search of an object belonging to Ravenclaw and another belonging to Gryffindor. I think he would not have resisted the symbolic power of such a collection. However, the founders' objects are not numerous. The only object associated with Rowena Ravenclaw is her diadem, which according to legend was lost in Albania. And that is precisely the country he first went to. However, I do not know if he succeeded in finding it. But knowing him, I think he would have continued the search until satisfied. If he had not achieved his goal, he would never have returned to the United Kingdom.

And the object of Gryffindor?

Dumbledore darkened

For historians, there is no object related to Gryffindor. However, according to legend, there is one: the Sword of Gryffindor. Nevertheless, this oneWill only appear to a Gryffindor who shows exceptional bravery in a desperate situation. But as you pointed out to me last year, Voldemort did not attack your parents at just any time. He attacked them on a date suitable for a particularly complex dark magic ritual. But there is something else you do not know.

It darkened even more.

Your parents knew that Voldemort was after them. They had decided to hide. So they used a spell called the Fidelius Charm. It's a spell of great complexity. It involves a magical process intended to hide a secret within the heart of a single being. The information is concealed within the chosen person, called the Secret Keeper. The secret then becomes impossible to discover, unless of course the Keeper decides to reveal it. Thus, as long as the Secret Keeper refused to speak, Voldemort could search the village where James and Lily Potter had lived for years, but it was impossible for him to find them, even if he pressed his nose against their living room window!

However, the guardian they had chosen was actually a traitor who had been working for Voldemort for several years. He immediately betrayed them to Voldemort. Yet, he only attacked them several months later. In the meantime, he engaged in a true massacre of Gryffindors. He tried by all means to locate Gryffindors known for their combat skills and forced them to accept duels at one against ten. In his murderous madness, he even targeted Gryffindors who had joined him and served him faithfully.

Until the death of your friend Ginny Weasley's uncles: Fabian and Gideon Prewett. It is said that they resisted with a heroism that impressed even the Death Eaters. And after that, the hunt for Gryffindors ceased. Of course, the killings continued, but the Gryffindors were no longer the only targets. Nevertheless, this short period of the war was so significant that it is now considered that the Gryffindors were Voldemort's main enemies. To the point of forgetting those who had joined him. And the many orphans from that period inadvertently contributed to maintaining this legend.

So you think he obtained the Sword of Gryffindor and tried to sacrifice me in a dark magic ritual to turn it into a Horcrux.

Given the elements at my disposal, it is very likely. It was not a simple Avada Kedavra that clashed with the protection from your mother's sacrifice and love, but a much darker magic. A magic composed of the exact opposite: pure hatred and indifference. The confrontation between these diametrically opposed magics caused a violent explosion of magical energy that destroyed the house and Voldemort's body. But his Horcruxes will prevent him from dying until a failed resurrection ritual causes his soul to disappear to the other side of the veil.

In that case, you must have found the sword in the rubble?

Unfortunately not. According to the legend, it disappeared after the death of the last person who won it in battle. It now waits for another Gryffindor to prove themselves worthy of it.

In short, there is no evidence. It is very speculative. But extremely coherent. So we still need to find the cup, the necklace, and a mysterious object of great value. Do you have any leads on their locations?

All I know is that he probably placed them in extremely prestigious places or places that have meaning to him. And of course, he will have made sure that they are very well protected.But I have no other information. All the places I thought of turned out to be empty or difficult to locate.

Obviously. Otherwise, you would have already solved the problem. But in a way, it's reassuring. The probability of him coming back is extremely slim, actually. Given how he must have protected his Horcruxes, it will probably be centuries before someone stumbles upon one by mistake and experiences the same thing as Ginny did last year. In fact, it's just a huge coincidence if (...). But he thought about it. Obviously. He informed his most loyal Death Eaters about the existence of the Horcruxes and told them how to use it to bring about his return.

Yes. Death Eaters like Sirius Black. I think it's no coincidence that he escaped only now. I think Voldemort indicated to each of his closest Death Eaters the location of a Horcrux. Maybe they even think they hold Voldemort's only Horcrux. Or maybe he didn't even tell them what it was. Maybe he just entrusted it to them, telling them how to use it if he were to disappear. I think that's at least the case with Lucius Malfoy. Otherwise, he would have treated the diary with much more reverence.

Harry panicked.

So he can come back any day now.

No need to be alarmed. For one thing, we don't know if Black has already managed to seize the Horcrux. It must be extremely well protected, and Black is wanted and very weakened by several years in Azkaban. Moreover, it took nearly a year for the Horcrux to draw enough energy from young Ginny Weasley to hope to be reborn. We still have time ahead of us, but we cannot afford to waste it.

Harry was not very reassured by this news. Once again, his end of the year promised to be eventful. As he was about to leave, Dumbledore stopped him:

Before you go enjoy a well-deserved rest, I must remind you not to tell anyone about it. And to continue working on your shields. For now, apart from me and of course Voldemort, I think you are the only person aware of this secret.

Why did you tell me? I mean, I know I asked you, but why me? I'm nothing special. I just had the misfortune that he chose my family to try to create his Horcrux. I'm not the one who can help you find or destroy them.

It darkens.

I fear I cannot answer this question at such a late hour. It will be for next time. But I can already tell you that he did not choose you at random to create this Horcrux. He also chose victims of great significance to create these abominations.

Nott and Zabini

Harry and Nott were studying silently in the library (for a change) when Zabini arrived and handed an envelope to Theodore Nott.

Here. You are invited to my mother's wedding next month.

Again?! How long do you think it will last this time?

I don't know. Mom seems to really like that one.

What are you both talking about?

Hmm! You are not aware. Blaise's mother marries rich men and then kills them to collect the inheritance, replied Nott in a cold and emotionless tone that a doctor would use to describe a disease.

Blaise gave his friend a dark look.

That's what the tabloids say. She was just unlucky, that's all.

How many times is it this time?

The seventh. Blaise replied reluctantly.

And your father? asked Harry, before reconsidering, thinking that the question might be sensitive.

He died 9 months before I was born of a heart attack.

Oh I am sorry.

His mother didn't know she was pregnant when she poisoned him, otherwise she might have changed her plans. Nott commented as if stating the obvious.

She did not poison him. All toxicological tests came back negative. My aunts paid for the most advanced tests in the hope of contesting my mother's right to her share of the inheritance. It's just bad luck.

How does she still manage to find a husband? I mean, even if it's bad luck, shouldn't the wizards avoid her just in case? Harry asked.

Blaise seemed embarrassed by this question, but answered anyway.

According to the rumor, her future husband is 90 years old. Theodore Nott replied in his place, ignoring the dark look Blaise gave him. Harry, for his part, held back with all his might from laughing.

Remind me why I'm friends with you again? Blaise asked innocently.

You are not my friend, you are my ally. The Notts do not have friends, much less upstarts.

Oh yes, I remember. Because someone had to volunteer and I lost at drawing straws.

Nott did not respond and went back to his studies. Blaise sighed and said:

Don't forget to reply. My mother would like to know if your mother will come this time. She would really like to meet her.

My mother is dead, Nott replied laconically, without seeming to feel anything about this statement.

Huh! When?

8 years ago, I believe.

And it's only now that you're telling me? How come no one ever talks about it? Blaise reacts violently.

Suicide is taboo in high wizarding society. No one wants to risk being caught by father highlighting this stain on our family's crest.

It's horrible, I'm sorry. Why did she commit suicide?

For the same reason as all the suicides. Because she was too weak.

How can you say that about your mother? Asked Harry.

Nott sighed.

That's what father says.

I don't want to know what your father says about it but what you think. Said Harry.

Blaise answered in his place:

Nott is terrified at the thought that one day he might think differently from his father.

And do you think the same about Muggle-borns as your father?

I knew I shouldn't have allowed a half-blood lover to associate with me, declared Nott.

But good god, you associate with Muggle-borns every day. Voldemort himself is a half-blood and maybe even a Muggle-born. How can you believe all that nonsense about blood?

Following this tirade, Nott jumped in one of his rare displays of emotion.

Do not take the name of the lord of darkness in vain. Especially if it's to utter such nonsense.

He himself told me that his father was a Muggle two years ago. And Dumbledore (...). Well, let's say that Dumbledore assures me that his mother was a witch, but Dippet's portrait claims he was a Muggle-born.

Who is this Dippet who dares to make such assumptions?

He was the headmaster of Hogwarts at the time when Vol(...), you-know-who, was a student.

Father says that the Dark Lord is of the purest blood that exists and that this is where he draws his great power from. This painting must be dysfunctional. Father says that Dumbledore is a completely senile old fool. You shouldn't believe what he says. And I don't know who you met two years ago, but certainly not the Dark Lord. If it were him, you would already be dead. Father says that no one escapes him.

I believe there was a counter-example 12 years ago, replied Harry, pointing to his scar.

Blaise let out a sigh

Potter gives up. It's useless.

But it is important.

Why? Nott asked surprised

But I don't know. To prevent people from dying, for example.

What's the point, anyway, they all die one day.

You wouldn't say that if it were your life on the line.

My life is at stake. When my side loses the next war, you and your allies will kill me.

Pardon? I would never kill you.

I prefer that to a life imprisonment in Azkaban.

No, but you're crazy.

Why? I have no chance of escaping Azkaban and such a life (...)

Harry interrupted him.

But you could fight for it not to happen.

Our chances of victory are too slim for fighting to change anything about the outcome of the conflict.

Seeing that Harry was about to explode, Zabini explained.

He is asking you to join Dumbledore's camp.

Not necessarily, he could be neutral. Or run away. Harry explained.

Why would I do that?

I don't know, to survive for example.

What for? Anyway, I'm going to die one day.

Harry was so stunned by this response that he didn't know what to say. In fact, all he wanted was to cry. This time he understood what had so disturbed him during their first meeting in the infirmary last year. Nott didn't want to live. He felt the same way he did when he looked into the void from the top of that tower. But permanently.

A Love of Rat

Okay, Marietta is pretty nice, but I'm imagining things. She doesn't care about me. But on the field, she keeps looking at me and giggling. What do you think?

For any response Croutard sniffed the back pocket of his bag. The rat seemed completely indifferent to his problems. But Harry liked talking to him. Sometimes he felt like he understood him. And the rest of the time, it relaxed him and helped him think.

Harry opened his bag, then took out the Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans box that was inside. He absentmindedly threw the beans onto his bed while Scabbers rushed to eat them greedily. Harry was afraid that all this sugar might not be very good for the animal, but he couldn't resist its insistent demands.

I'm sure she's making fun of me. She's just helping her friend Cho Chang spy on our team. It's still weird that Ravenclaw asks that of their Seeker. In any case, it drives Cedric completely crazy. As soon as he sees them around the field, it distracts him so much that he has to cut the session short to escort Cho back to the castle. It's so funny to see him ranting against them.

Then without warning, Scabbers abandoned his treats and jumped onto the nightstand where Harry had carelessly placed his wand after returning completely exhausted from his last Quidditch practice. He took it in his mouth and ran towards the exit of the common room.

And wait! Come back here! That's not a toy. Shouted Harry as he started running after the animal.

But he only accelerated. Despite his fatigue, Harry had to run after him in the corridors of Hogwarts. How did he manage to be so fast despite his age? Then, from running without looking where he was going, he bumped into someone and found himself sprawled on the ground.

Watch where you're going!

Sorry Marietta. I'll help you pick up your things. Stammered Harry in response.

Why did he have to bump into Marietta Edgecombe? She was going to think he was an idiot after that. If he got hold of Scabbers!

Harry! She said, blushing. What are you doing here?

You're not going to believe me, but I was chasing a rat that stole my baguette.

Your baguette? But it's right there.

Indeed, at his feet lay his abandoned wand. And of course, no trace of that manipulative rat.

Marietta's bag had broken during the impact, so Harry helped her carry her things to her common room. Once they arrived at the entrance, Harry found the courage to ask her to come play a game of Gobstones in the park this weekend. She replied, stammering:

Actually, I would prefer to spend it with Cho.

Oh! You and her?

No, but I would like to.

Harry was sad to be rejected, but somehow he was also a little happy to have tried. And relieved to have his answer. He left Marietta after promising her not to say anything.

oOoOoOo

Author's note: Never give candy to a rat, it's very bad for them. Croutard's appetite for sweets should have been a clue for Harry in my fic and for Ron in the canon.

D&D evening

When you try to open the chest, it disappears and 3 Beholders block your way to the exit. A deep voice resounds, "You have fallen into my trap." What do you do? asked Harry to Blaise Zabini, Theodore Nott, and Justin Finch-Fletchley who were seated in front of him, each with a character sheet and 10-sided dice.

I cast a conjunctivitis curse on them, Nott replied calmly.

For the fifth time, no you can't. Harry snapped.

Why? It's the best way to get rid of a Beholder. Nott replied coldly.

Yes, but your character doesn't know that spell. Harry explained again, trying to muster all his patience.

This is ridiculous. It's a spell that even a first-year could cast. Isn't he supposed to be a mage?

Yes, but that spell does not exist in the game.

This game makes no sense. I should go back to the library.

For once, I agree with Nott. Intervened Justin Finch-Fletchley, whom Harry had forced to come by making him feel guilty about the way he had treated him the previous year.

Harry suspected that the coexistence between Nott and Justin would be difficult, as everything opposed the two teenagers. First of all, Justin was Muggle-born, but more importantly, he was as cheerful and extroverted as Nott was solitary and reserved. Simply put, Justin was the perfect embodiment of Hufflepuff values and Nott of those of a block of ice. A very cold block of ice. But Justin was the only student at Hogwarts that Harry knew who had already played Dungeons and Dragons. And they needed at least four players for the game to be interesting.

But from the start, Harry regretted his choice. It took all the cunning and combined patience of Zabini and Harry to prevent them from killing each other during the character sheet creation. To think that Harry had thought role-playing would help Nott come out of his shell. He would be lucky if one of them didn't end up in Azkaban before the end of the session.

For once, doing something other than studying won't kill you. I find it funny. Zabini intervened.

Pleased to entertain you. Commented Nott in his monotone voice.

If it helps you loosen up, imagine that you are studying how to fight Muggles.

A Nott has nothing to learn about being so inferior and certainly not about fighting.

That's for sure, your family of inbred degenerates has nothing to learn about the art of massacring people. Justin intervened angrily.

Finally, you were right. Despite your lack of muscles, the barbarian suits you much better than the thief.

This time Harry and Blaise couldn't stop them in time, and the table flew into the air following the explosion of the spell that came from their two wands. Harry and Blaise just had time to take cover in a corner.

He was just supposed to say, I cast "a fireball." Harry lamented.

The Beholders live next to the dragons, they do not fear fire. Zabini pointed out.

Are you going to start too? IT'S A GAME. Enunciated Harry slowly, emphasizing each syllable.

Nevertheless, I find it strange. Beholders are peaceful vegetarians, perfectly harmless. Why attack them in the first place?

Finally, he might already have enough problems without trying to help Nott.

oOoOoOo

Author's note: In D&D, a Beholder is a demon resembling a large eye with wings. Hence the conjunctivitis spell. This monster doesn't seem to exist in JK Rowling's universe, but I thought it would be funny if it did.

Prophecy

To his great surprise, Harry had once again been summoned to the headmaster's office. Harry went up there with great apprehension. What horror was the headmaster going to announce to him now? He was almost beginning to regret having learned Occlumency.

It is time for me to explain to you the reason why Voldemort wanted to kill you 12 years ago. Because yes, I regret to inform you that you were right last year. Contrary to what most wizards think, it was not Lily Potter but you whom he came to assassinate that night. It is time for you to listen to it in full.

After that, he tapped the Pensieve with his wand, and a high-pitched voice with supernatural tones resounded.

The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches... he will be born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies... and the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal, but he will have power the Dark Lord knows not... and either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives...

Harry was stunned upon hearing that. He tried to turn the prophecy every which way, but he could see only one possible interpretation. It was worse than anything he had imagined. He had to either die or kill the most powerful dark wizard of all time. He could only think of one thing. He didn't want to die. Never had he felt so bad. He felt like Dumbledore had just told him he had an incurable disease. It hurt so much. He wanted to scream, to shout, to break everything. But all he managed to do was sit there in a state close to catatonia.

I understand that you are shocked. To be honest, I thought I would wait until you were older to tell you. It's a heavy burden for an adult wizard to bear. Too heavy for a child. After what happened in the cemetery two years ago, I thought it would be several decades before one of Voldemort's Horcruxes resurfaced and he had a chance to return. I thought the wizarding world was once again a place where you could grow up in peace and safety until you were ready. But last year cruelly made me realize that I was wrong.

Finally, Harry asked:

Do prophecies always come true? Is there a way to escape them?

The question is simple but the answer is complex, and in your case, I think we can simply answer no.

In my case. So not all prophecies come true? he asked hopefully.

I will answer you with another question: If you were in my place, how would you find out if prophecies always come true?

I would try to find a prophecy that has not come true, and if after analyzing hundreds I don't find one, I would conclude that they always come true.

This is indeed the most instinctive method. However, it also brings some significant drawbacks. The most obvious are that to know if a prophecy has come true, one must be able to interpret it correctly and then find proof of its fulfillment. For example, in your case, how can you be sure of what the prophecy indicates? The prophecy speaks of the dark lord and not explicitly of Voldemort. And even if we admitAs she indicates to him, and that you will kill Voldemort, can't we say that it has already happened? After all, it was your mother who defeated Voldemort thanks to her sacrifice.

Happy to know that there is at least one wizard capable of understanding that a child of a few months is not to blame for Voldemort's death. But it doesn't help me much.

Be attentive anyway. One day it might help you. And then you were the one who asked for details. Understand that it is quite difficult, if not impossible, to know with certainty the percentage of prophecies that have come true. However, for the past 50 years, one of the main subjects of study of the English Department of Mysteries has been prophecies. They have collected thousands of them from all eras. They dissected them and after exhausting a number of historians, they agreed that about 60% of known prophecies have clearly come true, 39.9% seem to have come true, and 0.1% may not have been.

In other words, we are sure of nothing, but it still seems that the prophecies always come true no matter what we do.

This is the conclusion that most wizards have drawn from this work once it was released to the general public. And it explains why Voldemort took the existence of this prophecy so seriously. However, among the Unspeakables, there is, on the contrary, a consensus that it is false. A prophecy can be broken.

After this revelation, Dumbledore paused, visibly waiting for a reaction from his student that did not come.

You have nothing to say. Dumbledore finally observed.

Well no, I'm waiting for the rest. Replied his student with an insolent smile.

Harry had come to understand that his director was not so much fond of flourishes as of the effects they produced on his audience.

In any case, I won't give you a summary of all the controversies on the subject, especially since a number of these pieces of information are classified as top secret by the ministry and neither you nor I should be aware of them. I'll just briefly give you the theory that I think is closest to the truth.

By studying prophecies, seers, and the subjects of prophecies, the lead tongues realized that the magic at play was not the same type as the rare temporal magics we knew. On the contrary, it strongly resembles that emitted by a Felix Felicis potion, more commonly known as the luck elixir. This potion influences the behavior of the drinker so that they succeed in everything they undertake, of course, within the limits of their magical and physical capabilities. For example, by drinking it, a person who cannot apparate will suddenly understand how to do it and will be able to apparate perfectly, but they will not be able to apparate to the moon. The prophecies would be exactly the same. Prophecies would not be visions of the future but very powerful charms that compel those who are victims to behave in ways that make the prophecy come true. And like all spells, with enough willpower, magical strength, and knowledge, they can be broken. And the proponents of this theory claim to hold at least one example of a prophecy that has been broken.

So if this theory is correct and I face Voldemort...

Then you will emerge victorious feeling like you owe your survival to a huge stroke of luck. Voldemort and you will make strange choices that will ensure this outcome. On the contrary, if I tried to destroy Voldemort or his HorcruxesI would be very likely to do something stupid that will lead to my death, because I am not the one who can defeat him. The prophecy protects you as much as it protects Voldemort.

But even without the prophecy, during 10 years of war, I was unable to defeat Voldemort or find even one of his Horcruxes. And mysteriously, in your first year in the wizarding world, you accidentally found and destroyed one of them. Against all odds, just after defeating the main part of Voldemort, the one residing in his body, you find yourself having to face one of his Horcruxes.

What a coincidence indeed. Harry declared darkly. In fact, even if it were possible, you would not want the prophecy to be broken. And without your help, I have no chance, so the prophecy cannot be broken.

In fact, it seems that to break the prophecy, all the people concerned by it must agree and act together. Even if I wanted to help you in this way, I don't think I would be able to convince Voldemort to cooperate.

On this last point, I only have your word.

As with everything else. Lies and suspicion are Voldemort's methods. Mine are trust and truth. Have I ever lied to you?

Not that I know of. But you have hidden things from me.

In retrospect, do you think I was wrong?

No. Harry said reluctantly.

On that note, I want to warn you that you must not talk about it to anyone. Not even your parents or your friends. I include young Theodore Nott.

Nott is not like his father. Well, it's complicated. But you don't need to worry. I have no desire for the press to learn about the existence of this prophecy. I already receive enough letters from all the crazies in the country.

Certainly, that would be a good reason in itself to hide the existence of this prophecy, however, what worries me is that for the moment Voldemort only knows the beginning of the prophecy. And he will do anything to hear it in full. He may potentially go after anyone you have spoken to about it.And of course, I don't need to explain to you why it's better that he never knows its exact content.

Harry nodded with conviction. Then he asked:

Why did Voldemort try to kill me? Even knowing only the beginning of the prophecy, he should have known that facing me was not a good idea.

I doubt that Voldemort is aware of everything I just told you. As a true Slytherin, Voldemort has always had a very utilitarian relationship with knowledge. In his studies, he was never motivated by curiosity or the pleasure of learning, but by the power that his new knowledge could bring him. Consequently, he always despised the study of less prestigious magic or those with little immediate practical use. For these, he settled for very superficial work. And you probably don't know this, but divination is considered, not without reason, a collection of superstitions by most wizards.

As a result, I think that Voldemort was content with very basic, and especially old, knowledge about the nature of prophecies. He must have been convinced that the prophecy warned him of a danger that had to be eliminated as quickly as possible. That your death would mean the destruction of the last obstacle to his absolute domination. But as always, his main motivation must have been hisQuest for exceptionality and immortality. I think he couldn't resist making this very symbolic murder a special moment: the moment of his access to immortality.

That is why, despite the risk, he waited until the day of the autumn equinox, which, as you know, is a very special day for wizards, especially dark mages. He must have thought that it would be the definitive proof of the exceptional nature of his destiny and that the resulting Horcrux would be particularly powerful. And of course, I cannot rule out that it was prophetic magic itself that pushed him to this most questionable choice.

After this last exchange, the director motioned for him to go to bed.

By the way, Harry, one last thing.

Yes sir?

It's not your fault that your parents died. I hope you're aware of that?

Yes sir.

Then he went away with a heavy heart. That night, despite all his efforts, he could not clear his mind before falling asleep.

Return to the Chamber of Secrets

After Dumbledore's latest revelations, Harry remained quite depressed. He was both terrified and upset by the prophecy. Sure, he had known since that cursed day when he first entered the wizarding world that psychopaths were after him. But he thought he was safe in the castle. And since Dumbledore had explained about the Horcruxes, he saw a light at the end of the tunnel. Dumbledore was going to find and destroy those 5 objects and he would be safe again. He could leave the wizarding world and would go beg his parents to forgive him.

He would return to school, find his friends, work hard, have a lot of fun, and in the end, he would take over his uncle's factory and live a peaceful life away from all these horrors. Giving up magic would be like tearing a piece of his soul, but since the incident with Malfoy, it scared him. Harry hadn't talked to Severus Snape, but occlumency hadn't helped at all. The evil that was gnawing at him seemed to ignore his protections. It was as if it was situated behind them. Inside him. The only thing that had seemed to calm it was the Quidditch sessions. Except he couldn't continue anymore.

But it didn't matter. In any case, the prophecy had destroyed that hope. It was up to him to kill Voldemort or die trying. And the last few times, he had only managed to get out of it thanks to a huge stroke of luck. As powerful as prophetic magic might be, Harry was afraid he wouldn't come out on top in his next confrontation. And he wasn't sure he wanted to completely. He didn't want to kill any more than he wanted to be killed. How to live a normal life after that? Why did it have to fall on him? He was just a 13-year-old child. An orphan too. Why was fate so relentless with him like that? Hadn't he received his share? Sometimes he just wanted to scream for hours. And he couldn't talk to anyone about it.

The arrival of the weekend didn't help. He had finished his homework a long time ago and was now idle, having nothing else to do but brood over his thoughts. He wandered aimlessly in the park and came across Hagrid digging his vegetable garden, who warmly invited him into his hut.

Harry accepted, filled with guilt for not having visited him earlier. It was his best decision of the week. The company of the half-giant lifted his spirits. That was the good thing about Hagrid. He accepted you as you were and didn't try to know more than what you were willing to tell him. Unlike Nott and more exceptionally Zabini, who tried through various tricky questions to find out what was bothering him.

But he could not completely dismiss his worries and after a while he asked:

Hagrid, if you had to hide a very precious object, where would it be?

That is not difficult. At Gringotts of course. It's the safest place in England. Except for Hogwarts of course.

Eureka! thought Harry. As soon as he could, he took leave of the half-giant and rushed into the headmaster's office. Once he arrived in front of the gargoyle, he realized that the password had changed since the last time. However, after a few minutes, the gargoyle moved on its own, and Harry climbed the stairs four at a time to reach the office where Dumbledore was waiting for him.

What do I owe the pleasure of this pleasant visit?

Harry caught his breath. I think I know where the Horcruxes are.

Dumbledore got up from his seat and waved his wand several times. Harry heard the gargoyle below close tightly and felt magic cover the room.

Just some precaution against prying ears. Tell me everything. Asked the old man.

He must have hidden at least one Horcrux in the Chamber of Secrets. It is the safest place that exists, it is highly symbolic, and it has a particular connection with him.

To Harry's surprise, Dumbledore looked disappointed.

This is precisely the subject I wanted to address during our next lesson. I had come to the same conclusion after your story last year. This led me to spend a large part of the sunny months searching this dark room. Without success, I'm afraid.

But that's not possible. There has to be one.

Before going further in this conversation, it seems appropriate to me to show you another of my memories.

With a grave expression, Dumbledore headed to his cabinet from which he took out his Pensieve. Once it was well placed on the desk, he invited Harry to enter it. At first, Harry felt that something hadn't gone well. He was back in the headmaster's office. But looking more closely, he noticed that the Dumbledore facing him seemed much younger. Then Voldemort passed through him. At least what he thought was Voldemort. He no longer had the attractive features of the young Tom Riddle but not yet the reptilian features he had seen on the horrible creature that had died in the cauldron. He then silently witnessed what must have been the last meeting between Dumbledore and Voldemort before the war began.

Once the interview was over, Harry was pulled out of the Pensieve. The first thing he asked was:

He really wanted to become a Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher? with obvious disbelief. He couldn't imagine Voldemort taking care of children.

At the time, I didn't believe it either, but now I think he really meant it. I hadn't mentioned it until now, but at the end of his seventh year, he asked to become a professor at Hogwarts. Even though I didn't have proof at the time, I was convinced he was responsible for the unfortunate incident in the Chamber of Secrets. Shuddering at what he might do to students if he returned to a position of power, I violently opposed his appointment. This, as you know, led him to work for Borgin and Burkes and to get his hands on his first relics of the founders. I've always wondered what would have happened if I hadn't intervened. Dippet adored Tom. Without my intervention, he would have gladly accepted his request. Many students would have suffered, but this job might have absorbed him enough to steer him away from his other projects. Perhaps he would have developed enough attachment to his situation at Hogwarts to limit his actions to a legal framework. Maybe he would have even mellowed over time. In any case, by a strange coincidence, since that interview, I haven't been able to keep a Defense Against the Dark Arts professor for more than a year. The only exception being Lockhart, who was lucky enough to be recruited just after the cemetery incident.

In any case, he couldn't have been worse than Snape.

Professor Snape, Harry. And without wanting to minimize his wrongs against you, I think the comparison is more insulting than funny.

I'm not so sure. Why do you keep him as a teacher when you know he's not... well, not suited for the position? And why does he stay, when he obviously hates teaching? It's not like he doesn't have a choice. He made me spend half the summer cleaning his rotten house and all his damn awards.

Your second question partly answers the first. How could I dismiss one of the best potion makers in Europe? Not to mention all his talents in various magic often forgotten by most people, like Occlumency. Contrary to what you concluded too quickly, I do not acknowledge that he is unsuited for the position. He is certainly extremely harsh with the students, especially with the Gryffindors and some Hufflepuffs. But he does a remarkable job as the head of Slytherin House and supervisor for the N.E.W.T.s. Much better than his predecessor, you can believe me. Not to mention that in case of trouble, he will be a valuable asset for the defense of the castle. As for the reason why he does not seek a position that suits him better, I fear that is a questionorderprivate that does not concern you.

Harry took the last sentence for what it was. An invitation to change the subject.

Why did you show me this memory? I mean it's interesting, but how will it help us find his Horcruxes before Black or another fanatic finds them?

In your opinion, why did he come that day?

You said it, right? To become a teacher against the forces of evil?

As I told young Voldemort, he must have known there was no chance I would give him the position. I think he mainly wanted an opportunity to enter the castle without it being suspicious.

Do you think he took the opportunity to hide one of his Horcruxes in the castle?

Or to remove one. I think the journal was initially hidden in the Chamber of Secrets. After he graduated and his first application for the teaching position was rejected, he had nowhere to go. In fact, I think he slept on the street in the days following his graduation. It would not have been reasonable to take the journal with him during his wandering. The risk was too great of losing it, having it stolen, or worse, being caught with what even the most incompetent Ministry employee would recognize as an advanced dark magic object.I think he left it in the only safe place he knew at the time. However, he must have thought afterward that the chamber was too safe for the journal. In the unlikely event that he disappeared, no innocent victim would ever come within its reach. I believe, like you, that it is very likely he wanted to hide a Horcrux in the castle. However, even if it’s a bit presumptuous on my part, I think that outside the chamber there is no place in Hogwarts that escapes my surveillance. And my visit this summer convinced me a little more that he would never have stored a Horcrux there permanently.

You yourself said that because of the prophecy, you cannotYou are a professional translator. Directly translate this text into English, without adding anything.could not find the Horcruxes. As soon as Harry uttered this sentence, he regretted it.

Strictly speaking, the prophecy implies that I could not destroy the Horcruxes. But a priori nothing prevents me from finding them as long as I intend to entrust you with the task of neutralizing them. However, you are right. It is possible that prophetic magic has misled me. Not to mention that the chamber may have hiding places accessible only to Parselmouths. I think it’s unlikely, but if your instinct tells you that a Horcrux is there, then it’s probably worth searching the chamber one last time with you.

Harry shuddered upon hearing that. It was the response he had expected when he made that stupid remark. He really had no desire to return to that sinister place. In retrospect, it hadn't been so horrible. Especially in comparison to what had happened in the cemetery. But at night in his bed, he still trembled remembering the terror he had felt at the time.

When he had entered the office, he had naively believed that the headmaster would never involve one of his students in a hunt for Horcruxes. That he would go alone to face the danger to bring back the Horcruxes for him to destroy under his supervision. But obviously, it couldn't be that simple. If he caught the one who had made that cursed prophecy that had ruined his life...

Understanding his discomfort, Dumbledore added.

I would understand if you need time to (...)

No, the sooner it's done the better it will be. And besides, I don't want to spend the coming days worrying.

Following this response, Dumbledore gave him a smile. Then together they walked out into the corridors, almost entirely empty this weekend. The older students had gone to enjoy a trip to Hogsmeade while the younger ones relaxed in the park during what would likely be one of the last sunny days of the year.

On the way, Dumbledore indicated to him:

It's very brave of you. Your parents would be proud of you. And I'm sure your aunt and uncle would be too.

I am not courageous at all. I am just terrified.

Courage does not lie in the absence of fear but in overcoming it to do what is right.

If I had the choice, I would never impose this on myself.

Oh, but you have a choice. Nothing forces you to invest so much in what could have remained my personal quest.

When I tried to flee, the prophecy did not let me.

It is not the prophecy that chose to attack your loved ones but Voldemort. Never forget that whatever the circumstances, we are responsible for our choices and their consequences. You chose to confront him to protect your loved ones.

Whatever you say, I feel like a pig forced to walk to the slaughterhouse.

They arrived in front of the sink that concealed the entrance to the chamber. With a gesture, Dumbledore invited him to request the opening of the access, then, with surprising agility for his age, Dumbledore jumped into the tunnel. Harry followed shortly after. Upon landing, he noticed that the rat skeletons had been advantageously replaced by a foam mattress and that torches magically kept alight illuminated the place. These simple changes were enough to transform the area and make it much less frightening. Harry began to relax. He followed Dumbledore untilThe enormous door engraved with two serpents that Harry opened again. Once inside, he immediately noticed that the vast hall, once empty, where the statue of Salazar Slytherin stood, now contained a huge serpent.

Without a shred of shame, Harry began to flee, leaving the old man to his fate. But something stopped him. Turning around, he realized that Dumbledore had used his magic on him to prevent him from escaping. The latter gave him a displeased look and explained:

He is dead, you have nothing to fear.

At these words, Harry relaxed and timidly approached the remains of the monster. He noticed that its eyes had been removed and that incisions had been made along its body, probably to retrieve organs from inside.

What is this thing?

It is a basilisk, also known as the king of serpents. Looking it directly in the eyes leads to death, and its venom is the most lethal of all known in the animal kingdom. It is also the only poison capable of destroying a Horcrux.

It seems that he is the infamous monster that Slytherin had hidden in his Chamber of Secrets. He had probably been enchanted to obey the orders of Salazar Slytherin's descendants.

Harry quickly withdrew his hand from the hook he was examining. Now that he was no longer afraid of it, he found it fascinating. Almost beautiful even.

Fortunately, Tom did not call on him. I would never have been able to face that monster. I didn't even know such a thing existed. You are truly an extraordinary wizard. Harry declared, full of admiration for what the wizard had accomplished. And he wasn't just thinking about having defeated that monster but about everything he had figured out about Voldemort and all the exploits he had accomplished in his long life.

In fact, it is Hagrid who deserves your admiration. Before this summer, I knew no more than you about the existence of basilisks. Otherwise, I would have immediately understood that only an indirect gaze from a basilisk could have caused these petrifications. It was he who determined from the remains found at the entrance of the chamber, particularly a large shed skin, that the monster must be a basilisk.

Harry immediately imagines Hagrid trying to offer a teddy bear to the giant snake and smiles at the thought.

I had a lot of trouble convincing Hagrid that it would be far too dangerous to keep this animal in a school. But he eventually agreed to help me defeat the monster after I pointed out to him that I would be unable to undo the spells that forced the beast to obey Voldemort.

Stop reading my thoughts.

I don't need it. And from now on, I would be quite incapable of it. Your occlumency shields are astounding for a child of your age. In fact, even for an adult wizard, they would be exceptional.

Harry blushed.

It's nothing extraordinary. It's only thanks to Snape.

In order to dispel his discomfort, Harry began to walk around the room and the surrounding corridors while Dumbledore launched into a litany of unknown magical formulas that were supposed to reveal its secrets. After two hours he returned to his starting point, disheartened. The room was definitely empty. He was about to lose hope when he noticed a detail on the immense statue in the hall.

The mouth is open. There is a coin inside.

Yes. She was enchanted to open only if asked in Parseltongue. That is where the basilisk lived in the absence of its master.

Harry suddenly wondered:

How did you manage to open it And how did you manage to access the room while I wasn't there.

I used Serpensortia to summon a snake then cast a spell called impero on it to force it to obey any order I would give it. I just had to ask it to say "open up" at every obstacle I encountered.

You are truly a genius. I would never have thought of it.

Once again your praises touch me, but I must confess not to deserve them. It was Severus who found this trick. Besides, the spell Serpensortia is one of his inventions. In fact, you will understand over time that "genius" is the name given to those who take credit for the work of others. Or who cheat in one way or another. The only way men can accomplish exceptional things is by working together. You told me earlier that your shields were nothing exceptional because they were the work of Professor Snape. I disagree. It is you and you alone who convinced Professor Snape to help you and who managed to work with him despite his difficult nature towards you. This demonstrates an incredible ability to cooperate and recognize one's own limits. The only qualities that real "geniuses" possess.

Are you kidding? Okay, you didn't figure out on your own how to get into the room or how to defeat the monster. But you have accomplished so many extraordinary things in your life. You defeated Grindelwald and ended the Second World War!

Dumbledore looked at his wand sadly for a few seconds. He seemed lost in his past, and Harry decided to give him the time he needed. Finally, he continued:

This is what many journalists filled with prejudices about the superiority of wizards have written. But the truth is that I would never have been able to defeat Gellert. Worse, it is because of some of my mistakes that he became so powerful. He could only be defeated thanks to the meticulous execution of a plan of which I was only one of the cogs. A major cog but not enough for me to claim the authorship of this feat. But the plan went awry and I found myself being the only survivor of our group.

Many members of this group of resistors were ordinary Muggles. One of them sacrificed himself to give me the opening that allowed me to disarm Grindelwald by surprise. But even so, I had a hard time defeating her. Once the battle was over, no one wanted to hear the story of the countless people who had sacrificed their lives for peace to return.

He wanted the story of the superhuman hero who now watched over their sleep. And seeing what this new glory allowed me to do to fight the many injustices of the wizarding world, I stopped correcting them. But recent events have made me wonder if I was wrong. Whatever people think, I am only a man and I make many mistakes. Besides, Tom is one of them. I thought it was enough to isolate him so that he would no longer be a threat. It only cut him off from any chance to amend and live an honorable life. He turned out to be the exception that proves the rule. He is a true genius capable of changing the world through his ingenuity alone.

After this speech, Harry and Dumbledore entered the mouth of the statue. But quickly, Harry had to admit that the chamber contained nothing. However, he did not regret coming. Facing his fear had done him good.

oOoOoOo

Author's note: the trick to enter the Chamber of Secrets is not mine but from the fanfic.Les Fugitifs d'Azkaban .

Sirius Black attacks

When Harry and Dumbledore finally emerged from the Chamber of Secrets, they were late for the Halloween feast. Dumbledore claimed he had urgent administrative tasks to attend to, allowing Harry to head to the Great Hall alone. This didn't bother the boy, as he wouldn't have to explain to the headmaster that, like last year, he wasn't in the mood to celebrate on the anniversary of his parents' death. On the way, he detoured to the kitchens. He hoped Dobby wouldn't be too busy with the feast preparations. He knew that, no matter how much work he had, the elf would be more than happy to serve him a simple meal and keep him company. But he didn't want to take advantage of the elf.

This solitary crossing of the corridors reminded him of the one he had made during the Halloween banquet the previous year. This time the castle seemed less frightening. The absence of rain and storm contributed greatly, but also the fact that he had grown and felt much more capable of defending himself. His long hours spent studying beyond the school curriculum with Nott had finally paid off. His academic results were still not exceptional, but he knew he could defeat any student in his year in a duel. Maybe even students from the following years!

And since he knew the content of the prophecy, he was pleased. Or frightened. Was it the prophecy that had manipulated him to decide to train? Had it caused the death of his friends so that he would focus on strengthening his powers? How would it react if he continued to devote more and more time to Quidditch?

Despite everything, he jumped when he heard a growl coming from the hallway to his left, which contained the portrait of the fat monk guarding the entrance to the Hufflepuff common room. He pressed himself against the wall, drew his wand, and waited. A few seconds later, what sounded like barking echoed, followed by the sounds of violent thuds against the wall and animal scratches. Harry wasted no time. He gathered his courage and started running as fast as he could towards the Great Hall. But it was a mistake.

Suddenly, the barking was replaced by the sound of footsteps. Whatever was in that corridor had heard him and was giving chase. Harry quickened his pace to the maximum, but the noise was getting closer. The thing was catching up to him, and he would never be able to reach the Great Hall. All of a sudden, Scabbers let out a piercing scream, jumped out of his pocket, and ran to a painting depicting a pear before screaming even louder. That's when he remembered he was right next to his first destination: the kitchens.

He took a detour and reached the painting with the fruit bowl. He tickled the pear, praying for the still life to move aside as quickly as possible. When the painting finally opened he saw the monster that had terrified him so much appear. It was a huge black dog. His first reaction was relief. It was just a dog. A dog that seemed rabid and ready to bite, but still a dog. However, he pulled himself together when he saw Scabbers jump into the kitchens with a clearly panicked cry. In the wizarding world, things were rarely what they seemed. And then, what was a dog doing in the middle of Hogwarts? To his knowledge, Fang (Hagrid's dog) was the only canine present at Hogwarts. He pointed his wand at the dog and shouted

Whatever you are, do not approach.

The dog seemed to ignore him and jumped in his direction. But before he could even think of a spell, Dobby teleported in front of him and snapped his fingers. The mastiff was violently thrown against the wall.

He did not wait to see if the dog would get back up. He hurried to take refuge in the kitchens before it could attempt another attack, followed closely by Dobby who locked the door with his magic. The dog barked, seeming to call him, but he ignored it and let out a sigh of relief. Among the elves, he was safe. He joined Scabbers and spent the following hour gorging on pastries that the elves kept wanting to offer him and trying to calm the rat who was panicked to the point of refusing to eat (which, for Scabbers, was very worrying). Next year he vowed to spend Halloween partying like everyone else.

As expected, he was welcomed like a king by Dobby, who made him forget this incident. After all, it was just a dog. He needed to stop panicking for nothing. He was safe at Hogwarts. At least, that's what he thought until Professor Sprout burst into the kitchens disheveled, shouting his name. An hour earlier, the Fat Friar had appeared in a painting in the Great Hall to shout that Sirius Black had destroyed his painting after he refused him entry to the Hufflepuff common room. Immediately, the professors noticed his absence and began searching the entire castle for him. Harry shuddered, realizing that the noises he had heard were probably those of Sirius Black destroying the painting.

Harry spent the rest of the evening explaining and re-explaining what had happened to the teachers and the headmaster. The latter could not explain the connection between the escapee and this strange animal. Nevertheless, he was sure there was a link and he modified the castle's protections so that animals could no longer enter the grounds, and the castle doors were enchanted to refuse entry to a dog or the escapee.

But Harry had another subject of concern. Following this event, Scabbers, who had been behaving bizarrely since the beginning of the summer, began to lose weight inexplicably. And he categorically refused to leave the dormitory. He forced him into his cage before taking him to see Hagrid, who explained that he was simply extremely stressed. What could possibly be stressing his animal?

D&D Night 2

Harry, I'm warning you, it's completely out of the question. Nott fumed.

Despite visible efforts to hide it, a mocking smile appeared on Harry's face when he replied:

The enchantress looks at you with incomprehension and speaks. Harry used his wand to make his voice extremely deep. Who is this Harry, little mage? And how can you speak despite my binding spell? It seems I was too lenient.

Then in a voice returned to normal, Harry explained:

She casts another Imperio on you and you lose 5 HP. She orders you again to kiss Justin's character. Your character starts moving in his direction. What do you do?

Blaise does something. Implores Nott.

Sorry, but I have to stay discreet and wait for her to be distracted to attack her by surprise. Blaise replied, visibly holding back a laugh.

Is this a conspiracy or what? I'm sure you did it on purpose to humiliate me, complained Nott amid the laughter of his two companions.

Oh! Please. What disgusts you so much about me? Asked Justin, who was the only teenager not amused by Nott's exaggerated reaction.

You don't disgust me. Nott replied, slightly embarrassed.

All hilarity ceased with Harry and Blaise. Harry then announced:

Justin, your character's mental resistance skill activates and you can make a willpower roll to free yourself from the spell.

So what exactly is your problem? Justin asked angrily, completely ignoring Harry's attempt at diversion.

You couldn't understand.

Why? Because I'm just a mudblood?

Yes. Nott replied laconically.

But damn, why do you care who my parents are? Do you know what it's like to provoke disgust for no reason from everyone you meet? To be insulted at every opportunity because of something you didn't choose?

Of course, I am a Nott.

What?

In one of his rare bursts of emotion, Théodore slightly raised his voice:

Do you think I don't know what you all whisper behind my back? That I don't see the looks of fear, disgust, and hatred? When I was 7 years old and lost my father on Diagon Alley, every time I asked for help, they asked for my father's name and then people ran away without looking back. Someone even spat on me. But that's normal. I am a Nott. The rightful heir of my father!

Théo, I'm sorry, it's true that I never ...

But do you ever listen to what I'm telling you, or are you an idiot? I am the heir of the Notts. One day, I will have to kill you. You must hate me and run away from me. Not be buddy-buddy.

And what if I don't want to? My character kisses Theodore. Says Justin.

After that, Harry forced himself to resume the plot of his RPG, but quickly ended the session, claiming he hadn't had time to prepare hisscenario. He just wanted to include a funny scene in his plot. Why did everything have to be so serious in the wizarding world?

Quidditch match

Welcome to this first match of the season between Gryffindor and Hufflepuff. Despite the wind, despite the rain, here they are already arriving on the field, Cedric Diggory, Stuart McKinley, Dougal McPhail, Wayne Bostock, Robin Botesdale, Anthony Otterburn, and Harry Potter. Shouted Lee Jordan during the players' entrance onto the field.

The kickoff hadn't even been given when Harry was already soaked to the bone. It was raining so much that he couldn't see two meters in front of him. How was he supposed to catch the Golden Snitch in these conditions? Who on earth had decided that the match would go ahead despite this lousy weather? His former football team's coach would never have agreed to play in such weather. And yet, football was incredibly less dangerous than Quidditch. Harry loved flying, but today he was just terrified.

Since the beginning of the match, he stayed as close to the ground as possible and just circled the field, hoping for a break in the weather. But on the contrary, the longer time went on, the worse the weather seemed to get. Cédric kept yelling at him to gain altitude.

You will never be able to see the Golden Snitch if you stay close to the ground!

You're completely crazy. I'm not going to risk my life to catch a ball!

A ball worth 150 points so break your arm if necessary but catch that golden snitch for me.

And Angelina Johnson shoots and scores. 20 to 0 for Gryffindor!

Cédric hurled an insult at Harry then went back to the last chaser who hadn't been knocked out by a bludger. The absence of Fred and George was sorely felt. They were the only Hogwarts players capable of controlling the bludgers in such a storm. In fact, they roamed freely on the field and the players only saw them coming when it was too late to avoid them. After half an hour, Mike Boon was taken out as well. Harry was now the only player still standing. All the others had continued like idiots to fly more than ten meters above the ground despite the danger and were now in for a week's stay in the infirmary.

Harry really didn't understand how one could take so much risk for a simple match. He eventually dismounted and cast a spell to create a temporary shelter to wait for the rain to stop. Once the sun came out, he would have all the time to look for the snitch and win the match. This attitude completely made the spectators lose interest in the match. All joy disappeared from the stands, replaced by deadly boredom. They never knew it, but this change in atmosphere happened just in time. A few seconds more and the temptation represented by this crowd drunk with joy would have brought down the dementors, emboldened by a free meal and giving up their fear of the headmaster.

But this long wait was not entirely useless, as an idea came to him. As soon as the weather permitted, he got back on his broom but instead of looking for the Golden Snitch, he picked up the Quaffle that had been left on the ground and scored goals for Hufflepuff. Bibine reread the rules several times, Gryffindor and Slytherin united to boo him but to no avail. The rules were clear. A goal scored by a Seeker was valid and the match continued as long as he hadn't caught the Golden Snitch. At the end of the day, he was exhausted but the score was 20,000 to 30 for Hufflepuff. He decided to catch the Snitch that was flying notfar from the professors' stands. With such a score, he was sure to win the Quidditch cup and the house cup this year.

Harry definitely had a cold and three-quarters of the school hated him, but in the end, it was a good match. So why was Diggory's first instinct once he was healed to ruin it for him? Why were all the team members giving him the cold shoulder? They had won, that's all that mattered, right? He couldn't take it anymore and had a violent argument with the rest of the Hufflepuff players. He couldn't really remember if it was Cedric who kicked him off the team, or if he left on his own.

All he knew was that as he left the stadium with tears in his eyes, he kept telling himself that it didn't matter to him to be rejected again. That he expected it anyway and didn't need anyone. That it was better this way. He barely noticed the reappearance of that now so familiar anger, although it did not belong to him.

Diadem

Now deprived of Quidditch, Harry focused even more on his studies and the search for the Horcruxes. He asked everyone he associated with if they knew of a discreet place at Hogwarts that was unknown, even to Dumbledore.

Hagrid thought he wanted to talk to him about his alcohol stash and insisted that he didn't have a drinking problem and could stop whenever he wanted.

Cédric (with whom his relationship was always difficult) believed that Anaïs was sending him to find out where he disappeared every day between 4 p.m. and 6 p.m. Cédric replied that he was doing nothing with Cho Chang and that even if something was happening, it was none of her business since they had broken up.

Harry did not know what Sprout had believed, but she had given him a long speech about how datura was an unfairly stigmatized plant by the ministry and that as a master botanist she had every right to conduct some research.

Nott simply replied no. This simple answer greatly disappointed Harry.

But the most interesting was Dobby's, who started jumping for joy at the idea of being able to help. Once calm, he told him about a room that the elves called the "come and go" room, which changed shape according to the person's needs. He went to the tapestry indicated by Dobby and passed by three times, thinking very hard that he needed a place to hide an object. A door appeared, and inside he discovered a jumble of objects left by generations of Hogwarts students. There was everything: brooms, frozen magical potions, hats, jewelry, coats, furniture, forbidden books, alcohol (a lot of alcohol)...

He quickly forgot the reason for his visit and simply wandered around this Aladdin's cave, regularly stopping to examine a new find. Until his scar started to burn. Alarmed, he drew his wand and looked around, but he knew it would have been extremely easy to hide in this mess. That's when he thought that he himself could very easily hide. He spotted a large wardrobe that seemed to have had acid spilled on its blistered surface he pushed aside the heavy blood-stained axe blocking its entrance and opened one of the wardrobe's creaking doors: It had already been used as a hiding place for something in a large cage, which had been dead for a long time. Its skeleton had five legs. He threw the cage to the ground and got inside the wardrobe himself. The pain in his scar increased. Whatever the cause of his pain, it was dangerously approaching.

Harry swallowed and as discreetly as possible he searched for something that might be useful to him. Why hadn't he taken that axe? Then, accidentally, he brushed against a tiara that was at the bottom of the compartment. Immediately, it was as if his head had exploded. He wanted to scream, but he felt like his body no longer obeyed him. He was in so much pain. But above all, he was so angry. At Cedric, at the Quidditch team, at Dumbledore, at everyone. A hatred like he had never felt before (even when he faced Lucius Malfoy). He felt tempted to put the tiara on his head. His terror managed to surpass his anger and after a huge effort and all his will, he managed to move his fingers enough to drop the object. Everything stopped. He collapsed to the ground, his body sweating and his scar oozing blood.

When he had regained enough strength, he moved away as far as possible. The pain in his scar began to subside. He was then certain. This tiara wasa Horcrux and he had almost met the same fate as Ginny. He wiped the blood that was flowing over his eyes and ran as fast as possible to the headmaster's office.

Upon hearing his story, he turned pale. Harry expected him to rush off to destroy the diadem, but he spent at least 30 minutes silently examining it with instruments whose function he did not know, while refusing to answer his questions. Once finished, Harry gave up complaining when he saw that the headmaster seemed completely dejected. For the first time, he looked his 113 years. Finally, he asked him.

This may seem strange to you, but do you sometimes feel emotions that aren't yours or have no connection to the situation?

Harry replied with fear:

Yes. Mostly anger.

At this response, the director seemed to slump further.

Since when?

Since last year. I think it started after the death of Lucas and Jenny. But it intensified after I destroyed the journal. Half lied to Harry.

If I remember correctly, you used your blood to destroy the Horcrux.

Harry acquiesced.

I see. Harry, I can easily guess why you haven't talked to anyone about it, but from now on you must come to see me every time you feel one of these symptoms. No matter the day or time it happens. Nothing is more important than that. I will talk to the teachers to let them know that you are allowed to leave their class at any time. I insist, even if you just suspect that you feel something unusual, come to see me.

I understand. What's happening to me, professor?

Dumbledore took a few minutes to think about what he was going to reply.

As you will have understood since the night when Voldemort gave you this scar, there is a link between you and him. A link that allows you to know when he is close to you and to use some of his powers like Parseltongue. It seems that due to the traumatic events you have experienced, this link has considerably strengthened. For example, last year your scar did not hurt when you were near the diary, yet this afternoon you immediately detected the diadem. I think that from now on it is strong enough for you to feel Voldemort's emotions. Or at least the emotions of his nearest Horcrux.

It was consistent, but Harry felt that the headmaster was hiding something from him.

Okay, but why is it so important? It's unpleasant but isn't it rather an advantage?

I don't have a reassuring way to say it, so I'll be direct: If the connection continues to strengthen, it could be that Voldemort might be able to exert some control over you. Don't panic, however. As it stands, it seems stable, and I see no reason for it to continue developing. However, you will understand that until all the Horcruxes have been destroyed, precautionary measures are necessary. In this regard, I know the immense sacrifice it represents, but I think it would be safer for you not to leave the castle until we have finished destroying the Horcruxes.

Harry understood that the headmaster was thus asking him to stay at the castle for Christmas. In any case, with Black on the loose who was obviously after him, he did not intend to return home.

Of course. I understand. And the blood protection. I will have to go back there for the summer holidays?

I will think about it. But I fear that this protection is no longer important now.

After this interview, Dumbledore took a basilisk fang from one of his cabinets and asked Harry to escort him to the Horcrux. Under his supervision, he drove the fang into the diadem, which let out a piercing scream. He then examined the diadem for a long time. Then he spent an even longer time examining him. He concluded with visible relief that being in the presence of the Horcrux once again had not yet amplified his connection with Voldemort Then he explained to him that the diadem was a mythical object that had belonged to Rowena Ravenclaw and that, according to legend, had the power to alter the mind of the wearer. Harry shuddered at the thought of what would have happened if he hadn't managed to let go of the diadem. But at the same time, it filled him with hope.

That confirmed Dumbledore's theories. And there were only 3 Horcruxes left.

Nott is bizarre

As usual after classes, Harry had gone to the library to study with Nott and Zabini. However, he couldn't concentrate because of Nott's behavior. He ended up whispering to Zabini:

Why does Nott keep glaring at Justin?

A piece of advice: above all, don't try to get involved. Ever since they spent a night together in the infirmary after your strange game, it seems like they're doing everything to meet up in the castle.

Seriously. He still hasn't moved on. How can someone as intelligent as him be so stupid?

It is one of the great mysteries of life. That and why do the filthy rich purebloods never have a cute sister? But anyway, every time they meet, it's a disaster. These days Nott is so often in detention that I hardly see him in the dormitory anymore. Besides, I find it strange that Snape keeps him so long. And this morning, he received a letter from his father.

And so. Did he perhaps congratulate him for attacking a Muggle-born?

I haven't seen the letter, but knowing his father, in my opinion, he rather threatened him with retaliation if he continued to get detention. But anyway. The most important thing is that since this morning, Nott has been forcing himself to stay calm at each of his encounters with the mudblood Justin. Zabini corrected himself upon seeing the dark look Harry gave him.

Ok. I understand better why he seems about to explode. Actually, no, I don't understand. What did Justin do to upset him?

I believe the problem is not Justin, but that Nott is just not used to not saying what comes to his mind. It kills him not to be able to insult everyone who passes by. It's a bit like forcing Snape to give you a hug.

Remind me, why do I associate with you?

Harry. I think it's time you admit that you are a sadomasochist.

I believe so too. Seriously, we need to find a way to calm that idiot down before he kills someone.

As a Slytherin, I suggest getting some popcorn and watching the show from afar.

Unfortunately, Harry was not a Slytherin. After Snape gave him a week of detention for trashing the library, he promised himself never to meddle in Nott's affairs again. And this time, he was determined to stick to it.

Christmas

The weeks passed without incident and to his great dismay, Harry had no new ideas for finding the Horcruxes. The rain gave way to snow and very soon the Christmas holidays arrived. As the headmaster had asked him, he chose to stay at Hogwarts. His parents disagreed, but he remained inflexible. And anyway, the week he told them was also a week when what he now called the crises made their appearance. In addition to the exams, each time the headmaster took time to reassure him. Eventually, a bond was formed between Harry and him. And several times, Harry wondered if he should talk to Dumbledore about what he had done the previous year, but he was too afraid of his reaction.

He spent the holidays alone in his common room, only to discover a pile of presents at the foot of his bed on Christmas morning. His parents, not holding a grudge, gave him a train ticket to Privet Drive, with the start dates of the Easter holidays highlighted in red, in addition to a ton of boxes of his favorite sweets. Harry doubted that the Horcruxes would be destroyed by then, but he was still touched. He unwrapped his other gifts.

From Dobby, he received a set of clothes that he would not wear for anything in the world. He also found a new diary and a book on Quidditch illustrated with magnificent moving images that came from Ginny. He quickly threw the first gift in the trash and devoured the second because it was so fascinating.

Once he finished reading, Harry was about to go eat in the great hall when he saw that he had forgotten one of the packages. The wrapping was tiny and when he opened it he discovered with surprise an old parchment yellowed by time. Surprised, he looked for the card to find out who had given him this strange gift. When he saw the name of the Weasley twins on one of the packaging remnants, he began to understand. He immediately dropped the parchment before it exploded or made a green mustache appear on him.

He eventually found a card on which was written:

In reward for your acts of bravery towards our family, we recognize you as the heir of chaos and grant you the secret of our power. Swear with your wand, on the ancient relic, that your intentions are evil, and the 4 ancient gods of mischief will reveal to you the secret of our powers.

PS: Don't even think about kissing Ginny again.

There was a 9 in 10 chance that it was a tasteless joke by the twins. Nevertheless, his curiosity got the better of him. He placed his wand on the parchment and swore that his intentions were bad.

As soon as the parchment turned into a map of Hogwarts with the names of its inhabitants written on it. He spent long minutes examining it, amazed. He saw the headmaster pacing in his office and Sprout working in her greenhouse. Then a detail intrigued him. According to the map, two people were in the common room. He examined the room once more, but he was indeed alone. Harry didn't pay much attention to it. After all, this map was old and was probably starting to malfunction.

Nevertheless, a thought was looping in his head while he was eating. Where had he seen the name Peter Pettigrow before?

D&D evening 3

BOOM!

Theodore Nott had just returned, slamming the door in the room that Harry had requisitioned for their RPG session.

Hey, be careful! Do you know how hard it is to find an empty room in this castle? Harry admonished.

As if it were the old classrooms that were missing? Nott replied in an irritated tone. Harry could see he was annoyed because his eyebrows were furrowed 5 mm more than usual.

You can see that it wasn't you who had to go on the tour to find it. I've seen things I'll never forget, said Harry, overacting fear.

Huh! But what are you talking about? asked Nott.

He means that he disturbed some sixth and seventh-year couples during an oral exam. Blaise explained as he took a seat around the table.

Who said they were students? Harry asked innocently.

That's clever now, I'm going to have nightmares at night. Nott, are you okay? Blaise asked, glancing at his best friend/ally.

Yes, it's going. Nott replied a little too curtly.

What's wrong? You received another letter from your father, is that it?

Mind your own business.

Listen, I don't know what he told you again, but it's nonsense.

My father did not send me a letter. Nott stated.

So what's wrong? Do you have hemorrhoids? Harry asked.

Nott nearly choked.

No one in the large Nott house has ever had ... had ... had that.

Hi. Justin said, slowly closing the door as he had just arrived.

You! Can you explain to me what made you go and tell that? Nott reproached him, jumping on him as soon as he entered the room.

Hello Théo, what a pleasure to see you. Have I ever told you that you are a ray of sunshine in my life?

Stop your unhealthy insinuations immediately. And my first name is Theodore, not Theo. And for the mudbloods, it's Mr. Nott or Lord Nott.

Does he have hemorrhoids? Justin asked towards the other two who were watching them without understanding.

Theodore's face froze in such a funny expression that the other three couldn't help but burst out laughing.

Does it amuse you to make fun of me? I should have suspected it. From the beginning, all you wanted was to humiliate me.

No Théo ... Théodore, we're sorry. It's just that you should have seen your face. Stay and tell us what's going on. Justin held him back by holding his wrist.

Anyway, if you leave, I will follow you to the dorms so that you tell me what's wrong. Blaise threatened.

Yes, tell us who bothered you and they'll have to deal with the survivor.

Someone is spreading vile rumors about me. Nott said after a moment of probing the sincerity of the other teenagers.

Rumors? What rumors? Asked Blaise.

They say that Justin and I would be close.

And that's not the case? Asked Justin.

That we would be very close. I heard two Ravenclaw girls whispering that we would meet once a week in an empty classroom to do things.

RPG? Asked Justin with a perplexed look.

But are you stupid or what? exclaimed Blaise.

Justin remained perplexed for a moment before his face lit up and turned peony red.

Well, it's not that serious.

The virtue of my lineage has been insulted. Commented Nott.

Let's not exaggerate either. What should I say when I'm called a mudblood at least ten times a day?

But be quiet, you fool. You must never tell a Nott that we are no longer in the Middle Ages. Or that they have a big nose. Interrupted him, Blaise.

The venom of the toad does not reach the white dove. Contra Nott.

The venom of the toad, I don't know, but the truth yes. Frankly, your house is called Fort Nott and has a wall higher than that of Hogwarts. Don't you think that's a bit exaggerated? Even the Malfoys live in a normal manor. Well, except for the fact that everything there screams: "I have a small penis and way too much money," retorted Blaise.

It is not a shack, but the traditional stronghold of the Nott house. It must be a testament to our strength if we want to protect our lands and our title.

In front of the incredulous look of the other teenagers, Nott added:

Men change, but not society. Humans always organize themselves into a pyramidal society dominated by a small hereditary caste. Centuries pass and great families rise and fall. At the top of the magical world, the Malfoys succeed the Greengrasses who succeed the Blacks who succeed the Weasleys who succeed the Malfoys like a wheel that never stops. Unlike these great houses respected by all and their multiple alliances, the Notts can only rely on their own strength to avoid ending up like so many others, crushed by the inexorable advance of this wheel.

Théodore, you're getting in too deep. Listen, if it bothers you that much, we can just do like last time. One or two fake fights in public and it'll be settled. I promise this time I'll better control my strength. Said Justin.

Wait, all the fuss you made for a week, were those fake fights? You could have warned us. Exclaimed Harry.

Not so false after all. Declared Justin while rubbing his arm.

Théodore, who had remained stunned until then:

You would be ready to start again. After what happened last time?

How did what happened? You too ended up in the infirmary.

I was just surprised that you mastered this kind of spell, but in a real duel, you wouldn't have had any chance. Commented Theodore, blushing.

Justin suddenly got angry:

Good God! It's one thing for you to call me mudblood, I'm used to that. But could you at least admit that I am as powerful as you?

What do you mean by you're used to it? Theodore replied.

Don't change the subject.

It's not a matter of power. I have been trained to kill since a young age. Théodore replied.

What do you mean by that?

Théodore remained silent for a few minutes, then said:

You are as powerful as I am if not more, and I'm sorry for calling you a mudblood. I've answered your question, so answer mine.

What question? Asked Justin, confused.

Why do you say you're used to being called a Mudblood? That's very serious. You should talk to Dumbledore. Or to Sprout. Harry asked instead of Nott.

Do you think they don't know? In your opinion, why did we have all those speeches about tolerance at the beginning of the year? It's obvious that you are purebloods. Malfoy is gone, but the bad habits remain. You don't know the hell it became for the Muggle-borns at the end. Especially when we were separated from our houses. Anyway, I heard that for the Muggle-borns from Slytherin, it was more of a relief. Justin harangued, casting a dark look at the two in green and silver.

Blaise had the good idea to lower his eyes while mumbling that he couldn't do anything about it, but Théodore seemed insensitive to his silent reproaches and asked:

As a last resort, force is the only basis of power. Why didn't the Muggle-borns band together to defend themselves and force Malfoy to change his policy? You are more numerous than the purebloods.

Of course we tried to resist, but it wasn't a complete success. Do you think I learned the spells I used against you from Lockhart's classes maybe? said Justin, showing a scar he had on his elbow.

What is this story? Asked Harry.

Don't you know Dumbledore's Army? asked Blaise.

No, who came up with such a stupid name? Harry asked.

It's Ginny. Ginny Weasley. Justin clarified.

Huh!? But isn't she a Muggle-born? exclaimed Harry.

At the beginning, it wasn't a group to defend Muggle-borns, but a group created by the Weasley twins to fight the Malfoys with their Gryffindor friend. Then the measures against Muggles became more and more extreme, and the group focused on their defense. Even with more members, it wasn't with Lockhart's and Quirrell's classes that we could have worried the ferret and his henchmen, but for many Muggle-borns, the DA was the only home they had left. Many held on only thanks to its help.

After a moment of awkward silence, Harry broke the silence and asked:

How come I've never heard about it? You should have asked me to join you. I'm the survivor, I could have been useful to you.

Justin lowered his eyes in shame.

That is to say, at the time, you were more one of our targets. You know, we thought you were the heir.

Instead of getting angry as he expected, the anecdote made the survivors want to laugh, which he had to suppress. Even though she was no longer studying at Hogwarts, Harry did not want to have to explain to them why he found it hilarious that they trusted Ginny and not him to join a group defending Muggle-borns.

The next time someone calls you a mudblood, tell me. Nott finally declared in a serious tone.

Attention Lord Nott? There will be rumors again. Justin gently mocked to dispel the awkwardness his words caused him.

I don't care about what people will say. They must know that you don't attack an ally of the House of Nott without facing the consequences.

Blaise chose this moment to ask:

By the way, if by any chance one of us had tried to explain to a really very beautiful pureblood what the four of us were doing here and hadUnfortunately tangled in his explanations. Would you hold him responsible for the rumors?

Harry and Justin agreed to cancel their RPG session after Theodore went chasing Blaise through half the castle, shouting death threats at him.

Peter

The more time passed, the more the mystery of the map intrigued him. He had tried everything to make the name disappear from the map. He had turned it off and on several times. He had tried using reparo on it and then all the other repair spells he had learned. Finally, he placed his wand on the point designating Peter and said out loud that there was a mistake. A message from the four marauders then appeared:

Cornedrue would like to inform his heir that he should not question the wisdom of his ancestors.

Patmol understands that there is doubt about the existence of Cornedrue's wisdom, but he personally saw with his own eyes, a witness claiming that the wife of his brother's cousin had one day had proof of it. And that for once he was sober.

Lunard will point out that it was enough to tell him that the Marauder's Map never lies.

Queudvert would like to add that it is not a mistake.

This reinforced Harry's confusion. He asked his classmates if they knew a student named Peter Pettigrew, but none of them did. If this Peter really spent all his time in their dormitory, one of them would surely know him. At the end of a class, he asked Sprout, who replied that the name rang a bell but she couldn't quite remember. In any case, she was sure he wasn't a student at Hogwarts. It wasn't until February that he got the answer he was looking for. After several hours of fruitless searching, Harry had the idea of leafing through the copy of the Hogwarts Golden Book located in the library. It was an immense volume carefully kept in the headmaster's office, but the library and the ministry kept a magically updated copy. Since the school's creation, at the end of the graduation ceremony, the graduating students would inscribe their names, signatures, and a comment about their schooling in this book, which would be preserved forever for the delight of historians and those nostalgic for their childhood.

After several hours, he jumped to the point of dropping the book on the floor. He had just found a line filled with:

Peter Pettigrew: James, Sirius, Remus, thanks to you these 7 years were unforgettable. But what really surprised him were the 3 names just above:

•James Potter

•Sirius Black

•Remus Lupin

All of a sudden, Harry remembered where he had seen the name Peter. His name was present in practically every issue of the gazette that summer. He was one of the 13 people that Sirius Black had killed the day he was caught. The wizard who had tried to stop him before he committed the irreparable.Why did the map claim that a person who had been dead for 13 years was in his dormitory? He had to know more about this Peter. The immediate way that came to mind was to write a letter to Lupin. But that would take too long. There was no way he was spending another night in the dormitory until he had solved this mystery. Which left him with only one person.

Professor Snape, do you have a minute?

The professor gave him a look that, by some strange miracle, managed to express both contempt and annoyance. Snape hadn't even uttered a word before he already regretted his decision.

Of course, I have all the time in the world for the great Potter. What could be more important than catering to your every spoiled brat demand?

He took that as a yes and entered the office. With all the time he had spent there in detention, it was unlikely to find that the place still frightened him. Despite the beautiful afternoon sun, the professor's lair was dominated by intense darkness that moved to the rhythm of the single candle placed on his desk. Not intense enough, however, to hide the eyes in the jar that seemed to follow him with their gaze and various other unappetizing substances that filled the shelves.

I would like to know. Did you happen to know Peter Pettigrow?

Immediately, without putting down the paper he was correcting, Snape shot him a look filled with restrained anger. I mean with even more anger than usual.

I had this inconvenience. Did you just come to waste my time, or have you decided to start mocking me again? Perhaps you think your pathetic Occlumency shields are strong enough that you no longer need your lessons.

I dream of it as much as you do, but no. I need to know what the connection is between him, my father, and Sirius Black, and you are the only person here who knew them.

Correction. I am the only person present who has an objective memory of that band of juvenile delinquents. Go whine in McGonagall's robes before you nullify all my efforts to join the rest of the wizarding world in the sweet oblivion of the congenital defects with which those errors of nature were afflicted.

I doubt that McGonagall remembers all her students. I'm sure she would have tons of things to tell me about James or Sirius but it's Pettigrew that interests me.

This time Snape abandoned his copy.

Why this sudden interest in Peter?

This is the question Harry had wanted to avoid. But given that the professor always managed to bypass his Occlumency shields in less than two minutes, he thought it more prudent to tell the truth.

He took the map out of his pocket, praying Fred and George would forgive him for this sacrilege. Then he placed it on the desk under the doubtful gaze of Snape. Then he placed his wand on it and said, "My intentions are bad." Immediately, Snape's gaze brightened as he saw the map of the castle appear. Then Harry pointed his wand at his dormitory, and immediately he felt as if his birthday had been moved forward. He distinctly read the name Peter Pettigrew. He was so happy at the prospect of sweet revenge that it opened up to him that he forgot who he was addressing and began to speak to him in an almost gentle tone:

How long has his name been on the map?

Since at least Christmas. But I think he was there before. I searched the dormitory in every way, but I found nothing. When I realized who he was, I thought (...)

That the map was deceived by a spell he had put in place. Snape completed.

I wrote to Fred and George. They are the ones who gave it to me for Christmas, he explained, seeing Snape's questioning look. They told me that the map never lies.

Snape passed his wand over the parchment for a few seconds.

Impressive. What a pity that your friends decided to devote their talents to such trivialities. The creation of this map is a magical feat as impressive as those great wizards could have achieved. I myself am not sure I could recreate such magic. But their arrogance is only partly justified. Even if I personally know of no spell capable of deceiving the magic of this map, that does not mean it is the same for Voldemort's former right-hand man.

I don't believe they created this map. I think it was a group of former students who called themselves the Marauders.

Upon hearing this last sentence, Snape's face became so drunk with contained anger that his jaw began to snap.

You! (...) You!

Harry adopts the attitude of prey in front of a predator about to charge. He remained motionless, hoping to survive through a misunderstanding.

What was it? An elaborate trap to ridicule me. Yes, I admit it, as psychopathic and swollen with pride as your father and his crazy friends were, when they used their brains for something other than annoying the world, they could do great magic. Are you happy now?

The Marauders were (...)? Began to ask Harry.

As if you didn't know! Snape interrupted violently.

Then little by little, Snape's anger subsided and he began to think. He had examined the magic covering the map himself. And to his great shame, he meant every praise he had spoken about it. Whatever his desire to harm him, Harry could never have mystified the map. And he had explored his student's memories enough to know that he knew too little about James Potter to have orchestrated this. To his great satisfaction, it was Lily Potter he knew the most about.

He resumed in a softer tone:

The Marauders were the name given to the gang of delinquents that your father was part of.It also included Sirius Black, Remus Lupin, and Peter Pettigrew. A dark wizard, a werewolf, and two fools who were killed by the first. They must have created this map at the end of their final year. As a co-creator of this map, Sirius Black must be aware of its existence and how to deceive it. His sick mind would undoubtedly have found it poetic to make it seem like his most recent victim was watching over his new target. That's just his style.

But Harry's mind had retained only one thing. It was in a tone almost as angry as Snape's that he asked:

How did he kill the other two? What does he have to do with my father's death?

Lost in his own thoughts, Snape did not realize the state Harry was in.

I will simplify so that the underdeveloped brain you inherited from your progenitor can understand. Dumbledore set up an extremely complex spell called Fidelitas that prevented Voldemort from finding your parents' house even if he was pressed against their living room window. At least as long as the man chosen to be what is called the secret keeper does not reveal it to him. Dumbledore naturally offered to be the keeper. But in his arrogance, your father refused and despite all warnings, preferred to designate his so-called best friend. Everyone told him it was a bad idea. I was the first to do so after discovering that there was a traitor among the Potters' close ones by spying on the dark lord at the risk of my life. But the opinion of the common people did not matter to the great Potter. By his criminal negligence, he not only signed his death warrant but also that of my poor Lily.

But Harry was no longer listening. A hatred unlike any he had ever known seized him. He had only one idea in mind. He was going to kill Sirius Black. No, he was going to make sure that he begged to die and then he would deliver him to the Dementors. His eyes turned red and without a word to the professor, he rushed into his dormitory. He had never had such a clear mind in his life.

Without paying attention to his classmates who were looking at him with bewildered looks or Snape who had followed him, he flung open the door of the dormitory and then headed towards the cage of his pet rat.

Endoloris

It came to him like an illumination. As if a little voice inside him had whispered it to him. Wormtail like the repugnant tail of a certain rat. Padfoot like the paws of a certain rabid dog.

Waking up in the infirmary

Humpf!

He woke up with a start, completely panicked. He looked around without recognizing where he was. He felt as if he had just left a long nightmare, except he remembered nothing. He took deep breaths to calm himself and looked around. He was in a bed with white sheets among other empty beds in a large room bathed in light, similar to the nave of a cathedral.

He recognized the place. He was in the Hogwarts infirmary. He tried to get up but something stopped him. Immediately, a door opened at the back from which the headmaster emerged.

At first, Harry was relieved to see him. But very quickly he had the impression that something was wrong. When he got close enough, he understood what was making him uncomfortable. The look the old man now gave him was hard and severe. There was no longer any trace of kindness or amusement in his eyes, and a sense of frightening power radiated around him. At this moment, he resembled more the war leader described in books than the benevolent grandfather he had grown attached to.

He tried again to get up but was violently pushed back against the sheets. He understood that a spell had been cast to prevent him from escaping.

Faced with this realization, he felt a violent anger rise within him, but he was beginning to get used to it and pushed it away.

Sir, what happened to me? Why can't I get up?

What do you remember exactly? Dumbledore asked in a gentle tone that his gaze belied.

At this question, the memories returned and his blood ran cold. Learning the truth about Sirius Black had made him so angry that he had lost control again. He had then gone up to his dormitory and taken out his anger on Scabbers. Now it seemed completely absurd to him, but at the time he was convinced that Scabbers was Pettigrew and that he was working with Sirius Black. After that, it was a blackout.

What have I done? He couldn't help exclaiming. It was as much a question about what had happened as an expression of his remorse.

You will be, I hope, pleased to learn that thanks to Professor Snape's intervention, your dorm mates only suffered very superficial burns. He himself has fully recovered from the injuries you inflicted on him. However, the facts are too serious for the Ministry to ignore them, and there were too many witnesses for it to be possible to cover them up. In a month, you will stand trial before the Wizengamot for attempted murder, use of an Unforgivable, act of cruelty to animals, and murder in self-defense.

Murder?

He was totally panicked. At that moment he saw Croutard come out of his pajama pocket and press its snout against his hand. Forgetting his fear of rats, he began to pet it mechanically, which calmed him down.

You really don't remember?

Harry nodded.

Sirius Black bewitched you with a powerful confusion spell to make you attack your classmates. Professor Snape, having noticed your strange behavior and incoherent speech, followed you to your dormitory where you started casting a Cruciatus Curse on your rat. TheProfessor Snape tried to stop you, but you violently pushed him away using very powerful dark magic spells. This was followed by a duel that almost completely destroyed the Hufflepuff common room.

Professor Snape was just able to slow you down long enough to allow your comrades to escape with no more damage than minor injuries. One of them still had to spend two days in the infirmary for his arm to regrow after it was crushed by a rock.

Once Professor Snape was mortally wounded, you ran away. After several hours of searching, we found your pet rat, which led us to a clearing in the Forbidden Forest filled with Dementors. Then the professors and I spent some time driving them away to find you unconscious next to the body of Sirius Black, whose soul had just been sucked out.

In view of the combat marks, everything suggests that you finally managed to break the hold Black had on you and that you tried to confront him. The Dementors patrolling around Hogwarts must have noticed your duel and intervened to save you.

This old fool dares to lie to me. I (...) Harry breathes. humpf! oumph!. He began to hold Scabbers tightly against him. With tears in his eyes, Harry declared

I am sorry. I can no longer control it. I never wanted to kill anyone. Not even him.

I'm telling you again. Black was killed by the Dementor and your behavior is due to a spell he cast on you. I don't want to hear anything else. Unless you want to end up in Azkaban for the rest of your life.

That might be better.

The old man seemed to soften.

Harry, what is done is done. Believe me, I know more than anyone how guilt can eat you up inside. But you have to move forward.

He then started to shout:

How? Did you not understand anything or what? I don't control anything anymore. Not even 5 seconds ago I wanted to kill you.

As long as there is life, there is hope. When the Horcruxes are destroyed (...)

Don't tell me it will disappear. I feel it inside me. It's like a dark mass threatening to overwhelm me at any moment. That's why occlumency is useless. Voldemort is no longer outside, but inside.

You are right. But when we have destroyed the Horcruxes, I will be able to free you.

Do you really think so? I mean. Can you really do that?

Yes, I promise you. Have I ever lied to you?

Harry smiled at this remark.

Yes. But I trust you.

Dumbledore's gaze darkened even further upon hearing this.

You should let go of your pet. The poor thing is about to suffocate.

Harry complied but Scabbers didn't stray a step away and climbed up Harry to rub his nose against his face. He seemed to have understood his master's need for comfort.

You have a very intelligent and very forgiving animal there. Take care of it.

Heritage

The next day Pomfrey declared that he could leave the infirmary. This did not mean he was free yet. They had to wait another hour for Dumbledore and two Ministry wizards to arrive so that the spell preventing him from leaving his bed could be lifted. He had to change under their watchful eyes and then proceed under their escort to the boundaries of the Hogwarts grounds, where one of the agents took him by the arm to Apparate him. The day before, Dumbledore had warned him that pending his trial he would be expelled from Hogwarts and under house arrest. A trial that, according to Dumbledore, would be just a formality. He would preside over the trial himself and had already secured almost half of the jury members. And as soon as he had signed the necessary papers, Dumbledore would draw money from his vault at Gringotts to secure the rest of the votes. Harry was beginning to understand how scum like Malfoy had managed to escape prison and why some were so desperate about the injustice of the wizarding world that they followed psychopaths like Voldemort or Grindelwald. But for once, he wasn't complaining.

However, he still did not know where he would spend the remaining weeks while waiting for his trial, and he was apprehensive. So it was with surprise that, once the typical suffocating sensation of Apparition disappeared, he opened his eyes in what looked like a typical Muggle street in London. At first, Harry thought the man had made a mistake. But without a word, he pushed him in the back up to a large dilapidated Gothic-style manor. It stood out so much amidst the low-grade concrete buildings surrounding the area that Harry understood at first glance that this was his new place of residence.

Under its appearance of repulsive ruin, it was supposed to be a perfectly maintained ministry building. He was therefore very disappointed when, once inside, he had the impression that the place was a dark wizard's lair abandoned for decades. There was so much dust that he could barely breathe, and he was sure he had seen a couple of pigeons fly away upon their entry. But the worst was the row of elf heads that adorned the main hallway.

He was about to ask his escort what he was doing there when a miserable-looking house elf appeared before his eyes and bowed to him, saying:

Welcome home, Master Potter.

Then he gave him a hateful look while murmuring:

How ashamed the mistress would be if she saw Kreattur serving traitors to their blood

What is this place? He asked.

Before the men could say a word, Kreattur replied:

Here, as you say, this is the noble and great house of the Blacks. Then he murmured: besides, he is ill-mannered and has no respect.

Harry swore he saw one of the officials suppress a smile. Dumbledore then explained.

Shortly after our meeting yesterday, I was informed by the goblins about the opening of Sirius Black's will. Apparently, a few weeks after his escape, he went to Gringotts to have it modified. He bequeathed all of his possessions to you, which, in addition to an impressive amount of galleons, includes ownership of the Black family home, this house-elf, and his title of nobility.

It doesn't make any sense. Why would he have done that?

Hum! Hum! One of the ministry employees made a sound.

We will undoubtedly discuss it again later, but in summary, I see two hypotheses. Either he was crazier than we thought, or he was innocent.

At these words, Harry felt an additional pang of guilt. He knew that Dumbledore would not mention the second hypothesis if he did not have a good reason to believe it true. Not to mention that now that he knew how wizarding justice worked, he did not doubt that Azkaban must be filled with innocents.

But let's move on, as soon as I knew, I asserted your rights as the new Lord Black so that you would not be sent to a ministry juvenile detention center. You will wait for your trial here.

While one of the ministry employees was stating his rights, which mainly consisted of not leaving here during the coming months, Harry looked at the torn, mold-covered carpets. Then at the shelves that hadn't collapsed. They were sagging under a thick layer of dust. Below, one could make out trinkets that seemed straight out of the worst shop in Knockturn Alley.

Harry philosophically told himself that at least Scabbers wouldn't lack friends here. He was tempted to tell the employee that he preferred the juvenile detention center, but lately, he trusted Dumbledore's judgment more than his own. If he thought it was the best thing to do, then he would comply.

After what felt like an eternity, the employee finished his litany and asked him to sign a paper with the ministry's letterhead. After a glance at Dumbledore, he complied without bothering to read the tiny characters that adorned the parchment.

The ministry employee seemed about to leave, then he reconsidered and asked Harry.

Excuse me, Mr. Potter, but could you sign an autograph for me? It's for my niece. She reads everything about you.

Stunned, Harry complied without a word.

Thank you. Don't worry, Mr. Potter. Everyone knows you are innocent. Soon, all this will be a thing of the past.

That did nothing to ease his guilty conscience.

Bonus Chapter: Staying in Touch

To Harry Dursley

Harry, I beg you, come back quickly. Since you left, Nott has been really weird. I mean more than usual. He scares me. You probably won't believe me, but I almost feel like he has emotions. I think he misses you. I miss you too. We all miss you.

Except for Snape. Every time someone mentions your name, he seems about to commit a murder.

Wishing you a speedy recovery

Blaise ZABINI

PS: I have taken over your role as game master. You can send me your notes for the rest of your scenario. And a copy of Justin's character sheet (an Augurey ate his during his class with Hagrid).

oOoOoOo

To Harry Dursley

Blaise begged me to write to you that he promises not to continue your RPG until you return. Honestly, what did you write to him to put him in this state? I had to promise to invite him to a party at my place this summer to calm him down. When your troubles are resolved, you will also be welcome.

Otherwise, life goes on. All restrictions related to Sirius Black have been lifted, but the dementors have not yet left (According to the gazette, it's a matter of time). The seventh-year GryffindorsYou are a professional translator. Directly translate this text into English, without adding anything.year decided to throw a party to celebrate their departure. The Slytherins are not welcome, but if you're back, you can come with me (I'm sure they've forgiven you for ruining the Quidditch season)

Otherwise, you will find attached the lessons and homework you missed (did you really think we would let you escape it?). Théodore will send you those for the study of runes.

Hoping to see you again soon

Justin Finch-Fletchley

PS: Is it true that you are the one who gave the bat in the dungeons that scar? I want all the details.

oOoOoOoOo

To Harry Dursley

Here are the rune study courses you missed.

With all my respect

Théodore Nott.

The necklace

Once the employees had left, Dumbledore made a quick promise to come see him the next day and tried to leave.

Wait, you're not going to leave me here all alone?

I'm afraid I don't have a choice. I have many responsibilities to face. Especially now that Sirius Black is dead, I need to convince the Ministry to forcibly return the Dementors to Azkaban. Apparently, they have gotten a little too used to having fresh flesh in large quantities.

Harry shuddered. Even though he no longer remembered his encounter with the soul-eaters, he retained a panic fear of them.

But it's horrible here.

Harry heard Kreacher let out a grunt.

Maybe, but here, you will be safe. As the owner, you probably weren't aware, but this manor is protected by powerful spells that its various owners have added over the centuries. Some are even completely forgotten nowadays. Despite its appearance, this place is a blessing. It would have been completely impossible to ensure your protection among the other delinquents. Not to mention their own safety.

After this statement, Dumbledore turned around and passed through the door. Harry tried to follow him, but when he opened the door, there was no trace of the venerable wizard. Instead, a man sitting on the bench across from his porch lowered the newspaper he was reading and turned in his direction. Paying attention, Harry noticed that he was holding the newspaper upside down. Remembering that he was not allowed to go out, he closed the door and resigned himself to his fate.

Master Potter will no doubt want to have a bite to eat after his long journey. Dry bread and water is all he deserves. Kreattur finished in a whisper he thought only he could hear.

You know I hear everything you say. Harry said angrily before resuming the breathing exercises Snape had taught him at the beginning of their Occlumency class. Whatever happens, he must not get angry anymore.

Kreattur congratulates the young master for his excellent audition. Why does the traitor to his blood say that to Kreattur?

Harry understood that Kreacher was not aware of speaking out loud. Now that he was calm, the elf inspired more pity than anger in him.

How long have you been living here alone?

Since the death of my previous mistress: Madame Walburga Black. Poor mistress, she could never recover from the death of Master Regulus and the betrayal of Sirius.

What year was it?

It was 10 years ago, young Master. Why does this snoop want to know that? I'm sure he wants to steal my mistress's treasures.

I don't want to steal anything at all. Anyway, now it's mine. Listen, if you want, I can free you and give you ...

But before Harry could suggest that he take the objects that interested him and thus "save" his mistress's treasures, the elf loudly begged him.

No, young master, I beg you. Kreattur will be good. Kreattur will serve you well.

Harry took off his pants which started to be covered with the elf's snot and tears.

It's okay, calm down. I was saying that because I thought it would make you happy.

But this only sent the elf into a black rage. Harry briefly wondered if, in addition to his other problems, he had not become bipolar.

Master Potter dares to insult Kreattur.

But not at all.

He no longer knew what to say to calm the elf when he had an epiphany.

Dobby

Immediately another elf dressed in about ten hats all of different colors, and a white shirt with pink polka dots teleported in front of him.

Mr. Potter called me.

Yes, thank you Dobby. Could you explain to Kreattur that I mean him no harm? And if you have the time, could you help me make one of the rooms in the manor livable, so that I can settle in there?

The young master insults Kreattur again. Kreattur would not let his master do the cleaning. Kreattur does not need help from the young master or the bad elf. Kreattur cleans the house very well on his own.

Harry cast a doubtful glance at the state of the manor, but thought he had a better chance of achieving a peaceful outcome by letting Dobby answer.

Dobby is a better elf than Kreacher. Kreacher is a lazy elf. Kreacher is not worthy of serving the great Harry Potter.

Before Harry could understand what was happening, the two elves started fighting like ragpickers under his astonished gaze.

The necklace part 2

It was midnight and Harry still couldn't sleep. After separating the two Elves, he ended up ordering Kreattur to leave. The elf reluctantly obeyed and went upstairs. He hadn't seen him since.

He then spent 30 minutes convincing Dobby to let him help clean the vast kitchen. After an afternoon of efforts, the place seemed almost welcoming. More than cleaning, it had been a practical application of Lupin's Defense Against the Dark Arts lessons. Tons of magical pests had invaded the kitchen, and they had to be driven out for Harry to move in. In the end, Dobby had fetched him a mattress, which he placed directly on the kitchen floor, along with books and sandwiches. He wanted to stay, but Harry insisted that he regain his freedom. He was his employee, not his slave. Dobby finally left, promising to return at dawn the next day.

A few seconds after his departure, he regretted having insisted so much for the elf to leave. Despite all their efforts, the place remained gloomy, and now that night had fallen, he was beginning to feel afraid, alone in this vast manor.

But he was not alone. Harry occasionally heard the elf pass by his door, muttering insults at him. Other times he perceived dull noises whose exact origin he could not determine. Harry kept telling himself it was the manor creaking. But who knows what other creature had taken up residence in the vast house. Around 9 p.m., he felt as if something brushed against his feet. He jumped up to find Kreattur holding a huge knife and what looked like a rat, to ask him if he wanted to eat. He hurried to check that Scabbers was okay then yelled at the elf to get out.

Upon opening the door to the elf, he noticed the row of severed heads adorning the hallway and shuddered before quickly closing the door and locking it with a Collaporta. It was a rather poor protection, but he knew no other locking spell. Inwardly, he cursed Dumbledore and his questionable security choices.

He tried to fall back asleep but despite the fatigue, he was now too upset to rest. It was a really unpleasant feeling to be tired but unable to fall back asleep. Unintentionally, he started to dwell on the recent events. He had almost killed his dorm mates. In the end, they had been right last year. He was just a Voldemort in the making. But little by little the guilt was replaced by anger. It was their fault that things had turned out this way. If they hadn't been so stupid, he would never have turned to Dark magic.He deserved to be hurt. Harry tried to calm down, but he was so tired. And then that elf who kept banging against his head. Wait a minute.

Harry woke up with a start, covered in sweat. Panicked, he looked all around him, but he saw only darkness. He didn't know what time it was and for a moment he wondered where he was. And what was that noise? It was like a heartbeat. A regular pulse that prevented him from concentrating. At first, he thought it was his own heart, but after a few minutes of anxiety, he admitted that it wasn't the case. Thank God, he was too young to have a heart attack.

He tried to ignore it and go back to sleep, but he couldn't. This noise obsessed him. Worse, the more time passed, the more it seemed to increase in intensity. He began to feel as if something was pounding against his temples. He got up to try to determine the origin of this exasperating noise. It seemed to come both from inside him and from outside. One thing was certain. Histhe source did not come from the kitchen. He grabbed his wand and, with a faint lumos, began to venture into the darkness of the house. For the first time since he had arrived, he went upstairs. The severed heads cast unsettling shadows on the rich, dust-covered tapestries that adorned the staircase. Harry did not understand where he found the courage to continue. Nor even why he had decided to go upstairs. After all, it would have been more logical to start his search on the ground floor. But his intuition told him he had to go up.

Once upstairs, he cast the faint glow of his wand into every corner of what seemed to be a large lounge intended to keep guests waiting. The mold hit his throat and made him cough. That's when he discovered a gigantic snake about to attack him. He backed up so violently that he almost fell down the stairs.Then, he sighed with relief upon realizing it was stuffed. He cursed the wizards and their ridiculous disdain for electric lights.

He further examined the room which was filled with glass cabinets containing rusty daggers, snake skins, silver boxes with illegible labels, and a crystal bottle with a stopper inlaid with an opal, containing blood.

He hadn't prayed since his adoptive father had taken him out of catechism. He still remembered his fury after the priest had told them stories about wizards and other demon spawn destined to atone for their sins in the flames of hell. At the time he hadn't laughed, but today he smiled thinking back to the poor priest who must not have understood Vernon's reaction. He just wanted to tell them scary stories before Halloween. Yet he still remembered the "Our Father" and began to recite it frantically while making signs of the cross, as he ventured into the dark corridor facing him.

With each step, the smell of mold became more intense and almost unbearable. He heard the house creak and jumped. But it was nothing. Then finally he saw it. At the end of the hallway was a door. At first glance, it seemed perfectly ordinary. But by staring at it, Harry swore that an aura of intense dark magic was emanating from it. He was sure of it. The source of that intense noise was behind it. He approached slowly, very slowly. Wait, why was he doing this now? He would be better off waiting until morning. A voice then echoed in the hallway:

When will you stop being such a coward? Aren't you tired of letting others die in your place?

Dudley, is that you?!

He was going crazy. He could have sworn it was his voice. Then it was his father's turn. Or rather what he imagined to be his father's voice in his childhood dreams.

I can't believe I died to protect such a coward. It's just a door!

He is not cowardly, he is intelligent. He waits to have shields to sacrifice. It's better for it to be Dobby who dies. After all, he's just a slave. Replied the voice of Jenny Nott.

ENOUGH. Shouted Harry he must still be dreaming. That's it actually. Without realizing it, he had fallen back asleep and none of this was real.

Open the door and you will wake up. Reasoned a disembodied voice with curiously hissing accents.

Yes, that was what he was going to do. After all, it was just a dream. There was no reason to be afraid. He was not a coward. He resumed his cautious advance. Then at theAt the end of a time that seemed like an eternity to him, he touched the handle. A plop sounded behind him followed by a scream.

Kreattur knew it. The filthy spawn wants to steal master Black's treasure. Kreattur will not let it happen. No, Kreattur must (...)

SILENCE VERMIN

As soon as Kreattur's words turned into silent contortions, accompanied by a few spits, so great were his efforts to continue his diatribe. Good. This miserable creature had to learn who its master was. He turned the handle.

Aiiie!

Harry let out a huge cry of pain. Just as he was about to push the door open, Scabbers had bitten his hand until it bled. He suddenly woke up. He had a headache and felt like vomiting. He looked at the house-elf, who seemed to be choking.

Creature. Teleport me to Dumbledore's office. Quickly. That's an order!

The creature made incomprehensible gestures at him. He would swear that among them there was a middle finger.

You can speak. Harry indicated to him.

Kreattur does not know what teleport means and anyway he does not want to obey a thief.

It means to apparate. Can you do that?

The young master must stop insulting Kreattur.

A second later Harry blinked. The horrible presence had vanished. Suddenly he collapsed from exhaustion.

As soon as the old man appeared panicked in his nightshirt. Before fainting, Harry just had time to murmur: "Horcrux, first floor, corridor, door 3"

Hope

The first thing Harry noticed when he emerged from his sleep was that he felt good. Better than he had felt in a long time. A gentle warmth enveloped him, and the crackling of a nearby fireplace relaxed him. He savored this sensation as long as possible, then opened his eyes and recognized the familiar stone ceiling of the kitchen at 12 Grimmauld Place. But he screamed upon seeing that this gentle source of warmth was not a fireplace but a gigantic flaming bird. It calmed its flames and disappeared in a flash of red and gold. Immediately, the intense feeling of well-being he was experiencing vanished.

Before he had time to wonder what had just happened, green flames appeared in the hearth and Professor Dumbledore emerged from them.

Finally, you wake up Harry. How do you feel?

Fine. What was that thing?

I never introduced you to Fawkes? He is my phoenix. I asked him to watch over you while I'm away.

What happened?

To be honest, I was hoping it would be you who would tell me. Following your instructions, I searched the third room on the first floor and found this.

He took out of his pocket the locket of Salazar Slytherin that he had seen in the memory of Hepzibah Smith's elf. The pendant was open and split along its entire length. He then remembered everything that had happened the previous night.

It's him, it's the Horcrux. Where is Scabbers?

Croutard then emerged from a kitchen drawer where he must have found something to eat and came to snuggle up to him.

Next time I go to the supermarket, I'll buy you about ten jars of peanut butter.

While he was petting Croutard, he told the headmaster what had happened the previous night.

And then I fainted. It's weird but now I don't feel anything anymore. Are you sure it's the real necklace?

Sure and certain. I myself destroyed the Horcrux inside.

I thought that because of the prophecy I was the only one who could destroy the Horcruxes?

That's what I thought too. But seeing your state of fatigue, I thought it was the right time to test this hypothesis. I had the great pleasure of realizing that once again I was wrong.

This greatly relieved Harry.

Thank you. I don't know if I would have been able to destroy it this time.

Personally, I don't doubt it for a second. But I'm glad I spared you that unnecessary ordeal. Do you want to keep it? After all, you inherited it.

No, thank you.

You are sure. It's worth a small fortune.

Sell it and give the money to charity, but I never want to see that thing again in my life.

Dumbledore seemed pleased with this answer and put the necklace away in one of his many pockets.

Fine. But if you agree, I would wait for the other Horcruxes to be destroyed for that.

It's a good idea. Do you have any new information on where he might have hidden them? Or on the nature of the last Horcrux?

No, but I think I'm about to obtain the memories of a retired Ministry employee who knew Voldemort's maternal family. I hope to learn a lot. Voldemort has always been obsessed with his family, and I'm convinced he will have chosen an object and a hiding place related to it.

While he was telling his story, a thought came to Harry's mind. But he hesitated to express it.

Yesterday you said that Sirius was innocent.

Correction Harry, I said it was a possibility.

But if Voldemort entrusted him with one of his Horcruxes, then that means he was really guilty.

Dumbledore seemed to think about it.

I don't know Harry. All this is so incoherent. If Sirius Black already had a Horcrux, then why did he go to Hogwarts instead of bringing his master back? And it's not just Black's behavior that surprises me. Certainly, Malfoy Manor and Black are ideal hiding places. They are both very prestigious, very protected, and within reach of potential victims to possess. But I would never have thought Voldemort capable of trusting anyone other than himself to protect his precious Horcruxes. The diary had already surprised me, but the necklace deeply challenges my assumptions. Not to mention that I found the protections around the necklace quite thin. In fact, the only protections had been put in place by Kreacher who, I fear, has definitively fallen into madness upon seeing me seize the Horcrux. I guess Black had ordered him to protect the Horcrux at all costs and that his already fragile mental health couldn't withstand this failure. I'm afraid we can't get anything out of him, even with Legilimency.

But enough of digression. Nothing fits in this story, but the facts are there.

Do you think he could have entrusted the two remaining Horcruxes to Death Eaters?

As I told you, I don't believe it. It's so different from what I know about how he operates. But if your instinct leads you in this direction, then we need to investigate.

He began to pace back and forth and think out loud.

There were 3 particularly rich and powerful Death Eaters who seemed close to Voldemort. This triumvirate consisted of Lucius Malfoy, Bellatrix Lestrange, and Theodore Nott Sr. If you add Sirius, then they were four. Perhaps he was seduced by the symbolism of entrusting each of these great dark families with the protection of an object from the founders transformed into a Horcrux. Perhaps he simply did not find better hiding places and thus resigned himself to having to trust a third party. However, after the war, the Lestrange Manor and Nott Fort were thoroughly searched without anything compromising being found. Nevertheless, this was also the case for Malfoy Manor, and a Horcrux was indeed found there.

I think another visit to their manors is necessary.

I agree. In any case for the Nott fortress. However, it is too well protected for me to force entry. And if I request a warrant, he will have plenty of time to move the Horcrux to safety before my visit.

And by a fortunate coincidence, it turns out that I have become friends with Theodore Nott, which should allow me to get invited to their fortress and find the Horcrux. I'm starting to get tired of coincidences.

Dumbledore smiled.

For me, they are the sign that we are reaching the goal. While you write to your friend Nott to ask him to host you for a while, I will go look for a way to access Lestrange's vault at Gringotts. Before she was arrested, she transferred most of her valuables there to keep them safe from ministry searches. If she possessed a Horcrux, that's where it is. But I'm not too hopeful. She was arrested after torturing Aurors into madness to extract a way to bring her master back. If she had a Horcrux, then she wouldn't have bothered so much. And unlike Sirius, she wasn't crazy. At least, not that kind of crazy.

Visit to the Notts

"But what was I thinking accepting?" Harry kept thinking.

At the time, it had seemed like a good idea to Harry, but now that he was about to leave Grimmauld Place to spend the Easter holidays at Nott's, he was terrified.

Not that he was going to miss the old dusty house. After what had happened the first night, he had categorically refused to go upstairs and continued to be terrified at night by the creaks he regularly heard. But he wasn't sure he would sleep better in the home of a serial killer. He sighed and, to calm himself, remembered that at any moment he would have Dobby to watch over him.

With one hand he grabbed his suitcase and with the other, the hand of the elf who on this occasion had abandoned his extravagant clothes for a new pillowcase with the Potter crest. If he wanted Nott senior to accept the presence of the Elf at his side without complaint, it was better to make it seem that he was his personal slave. He didn't want to unnecessarily antagonize him on the first day by showing off the only free elf in Great Britain.

Dobby snapped his fingers. Then he felt as if he were being squeezed into a pipe and his vision filled with psychedelic shapes that forced him to close his eyelids. A second later, the unpleasant sensation disappeared and he reopened his eyes. In front of him stood the beginning of a long staircase leading to a medieval fortress.

Mr. Potter. Welcome to the ancestral home of the Nott family.May I take your luggage? Pronounced an old house-elf with graying hues who stood before him, dressed only in a tea towel.

He nodded and entrusted his suitcase to him. He took a step towards the staircase and stopped immediately. Although it was warm for early April, he shivered. It was as if he had suddenly found himself under a cascade of icy water.

Master Potter need not worry. You are just feeling the protections of the Notts. Soon, you won't even notice them anymore. Well, as long as you don't plan to attack a holder of Nott blood. Dobby reassured him, having confided that he often accompanied Lucius Malfoy during his visits to his friend at Nott. But he had also told him that all visitors to the Nott castle were subjected to a spell that prevented them from revealing anything about what was there or its defense systems. Thus Harry had no idea what to expect. Nevertheless, he trusted the elf and moved forward. Each step was more difficult than the first. After a minute, he felt like he was moving through molasses. Then suddenly everything disappeared. He set foot on the long staircase, sighing in advance at the effort he would have to make to climb all those steps when he felt them move. He clung to the railing and was pleasantly surprised to find that the old stone staircase was moving on its own.

After a climb much faster than he expected, he arrived in front of a gigantic moat. While waiting for Dobby to arrive, he leaned over the moat and saw creatures as fascinating as they were frightening. There were immense sharks made entirely of water, two-headed eels, and... Were those human corpses? No, that wasn't it. They were moving.

stepped back and immediately heard a dull noise and an immense drawbridge lowered. Once he was joined by Dobby, he tightened his tie and advanced onto the bridge. As soon as he crossed the wall, he began to sweat. Upon entering the enclosure, he felt as if he had changed continents. Hewas now standing in front of a vast orangery bathed in a sun that only existed in travel agency ads for tropical destinations. He took off his jacket because he was so hot and moved forward until he reached the threshold of the castle where an old man awaited him in a noble and haughty posture. He was wearing what looked like an entirely black combat outfit, which, despite its simplicity, managed to look extremely luxurious and expensive. Beside him stood Theodore Nott Jr. in a custom-tailored evening gown set with emeralds. Next to them, in his Hogwarts uniform he looked like a beggar in rags.

Good day, Lord Black-Potter. Rest assured that I am honored by the distinction you bestow upon us, and our family will prove worthy of it. Nott senior addressed him with a smile that seemed menacing to Harry, but he didn't know if this impression came from the man or from what he knew of his past.

Harry was lost.

Good day to you too, Lord Nott. Please excuse in advance my future breaches of wizarding etiquette. Rest assured that I have no intention of disrespecting you, but my education in this matter has unfortunately proven to be more than insufficient. Harry declared in an obsequious voice that he imagined to be the norm in this kind of environment (and guess what? He was right).

At these words, Nott Sr. made a disdainful grimace and declared in a drawling voice that reminded him of Lucius Malfoy:

I did indeed understand that you had the misfortune of growing up among the rabble. But good blood cannot lie. I am happy that despite your past wanderings, you have finally understood that your place was among us, Lord Black-Potter.

Before he could hold back, he angrily blurted out:

I am pleased to hear you describe the entirety of my bloodline this way, Lords Nott. I was afraid that some old prejudices might tarnish the relations between our two houses.

Before Nott senior could respond, Dobby announced in a servile voice:

Master Potter did not have time to have lunch before leaving. Could you tell Dobby where he could find something to sustain his master?

I'm not hungry. Harry almost shouted. Then he pulled himself together. As predictable as it was, hearing Lord Nott insult his family and friends had infuriated him. He could no longer afford to be so sensitive. But maybe his difficulty in controlling himself was a sign that a Horcrux was not far away.

To calm himself, Harry watched Theodore Nott Jr., who had remained perfectly still and silent during this exchange. His face expressed no emotion, and he couldn't determine what he was thinking.

Please excuse my outburst. The last few days have exhausted me terribly. Declared Harry

You are completely excused, my dear. Sometimes it is necessary to reestablish certain boundaries. On that note, I congratulate you on the outcome of your trial. When I think that that half-blood Rita Skeeter dared to accuse you of killing Lord Black to seize his inheritance and then using his money to bribe the prominent members of the Wizengamot to exonerate you. But don't worry, my good friends and I don't give much credit to what this scribbler can say. For the moment. Nott commented in an even voice where not the slightest trace of annoyance could be detected. That did not make the threat any less real, however.

It was as if a stone fell into his stomach. He no longer had access to the gazette since his forced departure from Hogwarts and was unaware that Skeeter had decided to abandon her vendetta against Lockhart. Dumbledore had probably hidden this information from him so that he wouldn't be nervous during the trial. Which, as the old headmaster had promised him, had been a mere formality. The jurors had ostentatiously ignored the various pleadings, preferring to chat among themselves or read their newspapers. Even Dumbledore's magnificent plea had failed to capture their attention for more than a few seconds. Too bad, Harry had found it particularly moving. Hearing it, he had almost believed in his innocence. Then an official had read the prosecution's indictment without conviction, which was nothing more than a list of his charges, so that in the end the jury voted unanimously or almost unanimously for his innocence. Only a certain Amelia Bones seemed offended by this outcome and loudly abstained, shouting that it was a scandal (Harry agreed with her but refrained from making it known).

However, the most exciting moment had been when, on his way out, he had run into Lockhart who was going to the trial brought against him by a group of women for sexual assault after Rita Skeeter's articles had encouraged his various victims to speak out.

Of course. If I had to believe all the rumors circulating about our different families, I would never have had the exquisite pleasure of making your acquaintance. But let's leave the past behind us. My elf is right on one point: I am tired. May I excuse you so I can go rest in my room?

Of course. My son will accompany you.

Yes, father.

Straight as an I, Nott junior turned back towards the interior of the castle and Harry had to almost run to keep up with him through a maze of corridors and staircases adorned with artworks that must have been worth a fortune. He would never be able to find his way back alone in this place.

Then at one point Nott looked all around him, grabbed him by the arm, and violently dragged him into a large dark room made of thick walls without windows. He took out his wand and before Harry could get into a fighting position, he began to chant a litany in Latin. The walls suddenly started to sizzle and then nothing more.

What's gotten into you, Théo?

That's exactly the question I wanted to ask you. What are you doing here?

Well, as I indicated to you in my letters, I (...)

Enough of this nonsense. Even my father doesn't believe it. Speak, this place is secure. No one can hear us.

Nervously, Harry smoothed his belongings. He noticed at that moment that a beetle had clung to his jacket and shooed it away. For a moment he thought about giving him one of the lies he had prepared with Dumbledore but preferred to be honest with his friend. Well, almost friend. The coldness of his companion had prevented them from going that far.

I can't tell you anything for now. But I promise you that later I will explain everything to you.

I am disappointed. I thought you would at least make the effort to invent a reassuring lie.

Those ones I am saving for your father.

Without warning, he grabbed Harry by the collar and slammed him against the door.

Do you think it's a joke? What games are you playing? Why does the survivor take the risk of coming to one of Voldemort's lieutenants?

I thought he was innocent?

And I thought you had a brain.

Nott, I can't tell you anything. But I promise you that I have a good reason. I will tell you everything once it's over. If everything goes well, you and your father won't notice anything.

What if it fails? What if my father realizes what you are doing?

I am no more free to fail than I am free to attempt nothing. Believe me, I have tried.

You and Justin are really alike. You make grand speeches about my freedom to choose my destiny, but as soon as it comes to your choices, you find a whole bunch of excuses to claim that your path is imposed on you by others.

Me and who?

Suddenly he let go of him.

Nothing, I said nothing.

Before Harry could ask for further explanation, he repeated his litany in Latin and left. Harry followed him. During the rest of the day, they talked about mundane subjects and life at Hogwarts in his absence. Apparently, the other students had been extremely shocked by his fight against Snape, and he had to expect suspicion and sideways glances upon his return.

oOoOoOo

The first week of vacation passed without incident. During meals, Nott senior scrutinized all his movements, but afterward, he went far from the castle, and Nott junior and he had the place to themselves. His friend discreetly informed him that it was a trompe-l'œil and that, in fact, all their actions were constantly monitored. Nott senior was just as curious as his son about the reason for this visit.

But Harry didn't care. Whether at night with his invisibility cloak or during the day with Theodore Nott, who was the most boring guide Harry had ever known in his life, he hadn't felt the slightest threatening presence in the Nott castle. To be exact, he hadn't felt the slightest threatening presence coming from that guy. Otherwise, despite the long comments explaining how each room was a grandiloquent testament to his family's power, he couldn't help but find the house oppressive and gloomy. On the sixth day, he thought he was close to the goal when his friend seemed uneasy passing by a door he was forbidden to enter, but when he returned in the evening, he had to admit it was just a simple training room without any secret passage. If a Horcrux had been nearby, he would have felt it. He put on his cloak to go back to bed when Theodore Nott Jr. entered the room.

Harry, I know you are here.

Harry saw no reason to hide his presence and complied.

How did you know I was here?

There are many spells that allow the Notts to monitor comings and goings in their fortress. Your nightly walks have not gone unnoticed. Even Father has noticed them. If you told us directly what you are looking for, it would go faster, don't you think?

Nott, I can't tell you anything.

As you wish. But know that lord Black or not, if you behave like a thief then you will be treated like a thief.

I don't want to steal anything. I just want ... I can't tell you anything.

You just came to meddle in affairs that are none of your business. Let me guess. You're looking for a way to incriminate father. Is that it? You thought you could save me by sending him to Azkaban. Or maybe you even want to send us both there. The world would be better off without us, that's probably what you're saying!

Nott, no, that's not what I... But his friend interrupted him again. Since the beginning of his vacation, Harry no longer recognized Nott. He who was usually so indifferent to everything seemed passionate. The coldness was still there, but it looked like a mask.

I will make it easier for you. Last year, right here, I used a Doloris on the nanny until she died. There you have what you want. So now go away!

Sorry, but what are you talking about?

What, it's not horrible enough for you? Or did you imagine that I was on your side just because I told you where to find my half-blood cousin? Whether you like it or not, I am a Nott. And I am determined to be worthy of it. So now pack up your pity and get lost!

Nott. Calm down. I don't know what's happening to you, but I'm in no position to judge you. I've killed too.

Pardon?

Did you think that the one who challenged Voldemort three times was a cute little defenseless kitten? Last year, a little after we started hanging out together, I began studying dark magic. In retrospect, I don't really know what made me do that. I was in so much pain after Jenny and Lucas's death. I felt so powerless. I thought it would prevent me from feeling that way again. But it only made things worse. Since then, I've had episodes. Last year, I lost control and almost killed Lucius Malfoy with the Cruciatus Curse. Snape gave me lessons over the summer to try to solve the problem, but it wasn't enough. I don't remember it anymore, so I can't be sure, but I feel it deep inside me. It wasn't the Dementors who killed Sirius Black.

But Nott's reaction was not what he expected.

You congenital idiot. Do you think that's an excuse? Do you think you're the only one who's lost a loved one? Can you imagine if everyone who went through a little difficulty turned to black magic? Snape is right, you're just a spoiled brat so used to having everything handed to you that you can't overcome the slightest difficulty.

No, but that's the pot calling the kettle black! What was your excuse for torturing an innocent to death? At least I only went after scum who deserved it!

Trash like me, is that it? Just because we lost the war, you think you can do whatever you want.

At least now you know what it feels like not to have blood pure enough. By the way, how was your nanny's blood?

At that moment, Theodore did something Harry would never have expected, even in his wildest imagination. He collapsed to his knees and began to cry. Immediately, Harry rushed to him and hugged him. At that moment, he thought he saw a flash, but when he turned his head, he saw only emptiness andHe told himself that he had dreamed. He refocused on what Nott was saying to him between sobs.

Since my mother's death, she was the one who raised me. She was the one who comforted me when my tutors' comments failed to satisfy my father. She was the one who took care of me after each of my combat training sessions. But that summer, Draco and I were brought together by our respective fathers in this room for our...Our... Father told me I had to cast the Cruciatus Curse on her. It was tradition since time immemorial. She told me she understood and that I had to do it. But since I still wasn't moving, my father said... he said... Nanny begged me to cast the spell. So I focused on my father. On everything he had done to me since mom died and I cast the spell. I heard the screams but in front of me it was him I saw writhing. Then the screams stopped and she was dead. Draco vomited and said he would never do that to his old nanny. Lucius just said it didn't matter and left, taking Draco in his arms. Father just said well: "WELL," he shouted hysterically.

The rest of his words were an incomprehensible flood as he was drowned by tears. Harry was crying at the same time as him.

oOoOoOo

The next morning, Harry acted as if nothing had happened. He overplayed his interest in card games or homework. He no longer asked Theodore to show him around the castle. Now he didn't care about the Horcruxes at all. In any case, he was convinced that the house contained none. If it had, he would have felt it. From now on, he would be content to be there for Theodore. To show him that even if he knew, he wouldn't turn his back on him. That it wasn't his fault. That's about all he was capable of anyway. Dumbledore always knew what to say to reassure people. Snape to undermine them. But he felt completely powerless. All the words that spun in his head or that he had awkwardly recited to him last night seemed completely hollow. So he said nothing and hoped his presence would be enough. He had a hard time knowing, as Nott had been so withdrawn all day. He had become the cold and distant Nott he had always known.

The next day, however, was a day of great upheaval. Nott senior arrived furious in the great hall where breakfast was served and without a word threw in front of the two teenagers a copy of the Daily Prophet with a photo of Harry and Theo holding each other in the moonlight spread across the front page. Evidently, the photo had been taken that night.

Harry read the headline: "Nott seduces the survivor and converts him to dark magic exclusively by our reporter Rita Skeeter." The rest of the article was even worse. What had he done to upset that lousy gossipmonger? And how had she gotten hold of that photo? Obviously, someone was with them in the tower and had sold their story to Skeeter. His instinct was confirmed when, in the following days, Skeeter continued to publish increasingly sensational articles about the details of their relationship, gradually revealing the revelations they had made to each other that day. In one of them, there was an illustration of Nott holding him by the collar. Apparently, despite the Nott's security measures, a paparazzi had managed to spy on them from the first day. By the third day, he stopped reading the articles. It was always the same thing anyway. The tall, dark, and brooding Theodore Nott had seduced the young and pure Harry Potter and was slowly leading him into darkness.

The first day the revelations about their respective use of dark magic had worried Harry, but a sharp remark from Nott senior informed him that no sensible person believed the gossip written in those rags and that no judge would dare question the probity of their family.

"— At least if we stand together," Nott Senior took the time to insist.

His words were quickly contradicted by a letter from Amelia Bonnes informing him that she was reopening the investigation into Sirius's death and that he was expected in the Department of Justice's office as a witness next week. He merely wrote a long letter to Dumbledore asking for his help.In appearance, the Notts, for their part, seemed totally indifferent to the events. Nott senior seemed even angrier and more suspicious than usual towards him. Nott junior became quieter and more indifferent to his surroundings. But maybe it was just Harry's impression. Hard to know given the starting level. But that was without counting on a new morning routine that settled in despite the two teenagers' many attempts to avoid it: reading the mail.

They both received tons of hate mail and howlers. Harry noticed that most of the letters were from girls telling him he had made the wrong choice. These frankly embarrassing moments brought the two teenagers closer, and Theodore gradually regained the more open attitude he had at the beginning of the holidays. Whatever the cause of this change in the Slytherin, Harry definitely preferred him that way. He even thought he saw Theodore smile while reading a letter from Fred and George, pretending to be outraged that he was preferred over their younger sister while wishing them all the best for their future marriage. In short, classic Fred and George.

But one day Nott tried with obvious discomfort to hide one of the letters he had received from him. This greatly intrigued Harry. A little earlier he had exchanged the letters he had received respectively from Blaise and Ginny and had felt no embarrassment. Only a frank desire to laugh. (Yet they were by far the most explicit). Thanks to his invisibility cloak, he was able to see in the evening that it came from Justin Finch-Fletchley but did not dare to look at the content.

On the day of his departure, he thought he had seen everything Rita could do to him and had risen above it with humor, but before leaving for the director's office, he saw a new headline on the breakfast table. Apparently, the gazette was backpedaling. Suddenly, he was no longer the pure being drawn towards darkness but the savior who had sacrificed his virtue to redeem the soul of the Nott heir.

This turnaround pleased Harry until he learned that his supposed plan had worked so well that Nott was now secretly cheating on him with a Muggle-born named Justin Finch-Fletchley.

oOoOoOo

Harry arrived a few hours later, quite annoyed, in the professor's office. The latter greeted him jovially without paying attention to his bad mood.

I have excellent news, Harry.

Have you finally found a way to get Rita Skeeter fired? He replied sarcastically.

I have much better than an attack on press freedom.

He then took out from one of the drawers of his desk an administrative document of several pages with the Gringotts coat of arms. Harry looked at it without understanding. HeIt was essentially a list of objects with strange names whose purpose he was completely unaware of.

What is it?

Look at the 5th page. The one I dog-eared.

Harry complied and saw highlighted in red: "Goblin-made silverware in the form of a cup with the coat of arms of the Hufflepuff house of Hogwarts."

Harry forgot his concerns and became excited.

Did you find it? Where?

Exactly where we thought we would find it. In the Lestrange vault. This is a recent and comprehensive inventory of its contents.

How did you manage to do that? I thought only the owner of a safe could access it.

That is the case, Lord Black. But I remembered that our enemy was actually named Bellatrix Lestrange née Black. I used the power of attorney you signed for me to file a complaint in your name against Lestrange for inheritance usurpation. Basically, I accused Bellatrix of appropriating assets that rightfully belonged to you before her marriage. As a result, the goblins decided to internally verify the truth of the accusations in order to determine the response to my request. What is convenient with the goblins is their predictability.

I then convinced a wizard working with the goblins to provide me with a copy of this inventory.

The goblins will be furious if they find out.

Indeed. So I advised my contact to quickly return to Egypt. But if all goes well, they will never learn that he played a role in this story.

Things never go well.

There must always be an exception to prove the rule. But before I explain my plan to retrieve this cup, could you tell me what's on your mind?

It's nothing really. The Horcruxes are more important.

Let's go. I am so proud of my plan. I don't want anything to spoil the amazement you will undoubtedly feel when you hear it. Tell me how your stay with the Notts went.

Apart from Rita's ridiculous gossip, nothing happened. This trip was a complete waste of time. There isn't a trace of a Horcrux in this castle. It must be hidden elsewhere. Maybe in their vault.

Gossip really? What a shame. You would have made such a lovely couple.

You haven't read the latest news. I still couldn't accept that he was cheating on me with someone older.

No indeed. I am glad you take it so well. I was afraid it was the cause of your current torment.

Since my arrival at Hogwarts, worse things have been said about me. However, Theodore didn't really appreciate that Justin got involved in all this. I don't know what kind of relationship he has with the Hufflepuff golden boy, but he's afraid I put him in unnecessary danger by going to his place. And the worst part is, I think he's right. Once again. If his father, or even any other pureblood, starts taking seriously what Rita wrote...

I will repeat it until you remember it: It is not your fault. I will end up chaining you with Professor Snape until this truth sinks in. However, it is entirely your fault if you played with dark magic.

Did you know? Since when?

Since your fight with Snape. Upon waking up, he let it slip, believing that your crisis was related to dark magic poisoning.But I had to wait for this article to get the details.

He's talking nonsense. It didn't happen like that at all. It's true that I started seeing Theodore at the same time, but he didn't know anything. If he had, he would have stopped me.

Or he would have pushed you even further. If we manage to prevent a new war, I place great hopes on the heir of the Notts. But don't forget that he will readily side with the other camp at the first signs of trouble.

I know Theodore better than you. Said Harry defensively. He didn't want to admit that he thought like Dumbledore.

Harry, sometimes there are people we cannot save.

This is not yet the case with Théodore. If he appreciates that loser Justin, there is hope. You did something to protect him.

Yes. Professor Sprout takes the safety of her students very seriously.I would be more concerned about Theodore's safety. How did his father take it?

Harry became somber again.

I don't know. Théodore practically kicked me out before he came back. I asked Dobby to forcibly apparate him to platform 9-3/4.

It is indeed more prudent. Once at the castle, he will be safe. But that puts Justin in even more danger. I am fairly certain there is nothing romantic between the two of them, but nonetheless, I doubt he will forgive you.

I know. But I don't care about his forgiveness.

Which is unfortunate because in case of failure at the manor I was planning to ask you to take Nott to Diagon Alley. I had concocted an entire scenario for you to be forced to visit your respective vaults.

It's dead and buried. At least for a very long time. And what about your plan to seize the cup?

In fact, it's very simple. I will contact the heirs of Hepzibah Smith to file a theft complaint against the Lestrange family with the goblins. Of course, the goblins will refuse. I will then use the document here to prove that they knowingly lied. To protect a known Death Eater, no less. If I pay them an exorbitant deposit, I think I can convince them to entrust it to me for some time.

You are a genius. Who came up with this plan?

My contact who works with the goblins.

For me, you are still a genius.

Last two months

Two months passed.

Two months of judicial hassle that led to nothing. The Blacks' money and Dumbledore's aura thwarted all of Amelia Bones' attempts to conduct a serious investigation into Sirius's death. However, she informed the press that Sirius and other Death Eaters had been condemned without trial, which sparked a controversy that Malfoy exploited to try to free about ten Death Eaters. Faced with the threat, Amelia Bones eventually allied with Dumbledore. In the end, all this only further discredited the ministry in the eyes of the public.

Two months of articles by Rita Skeeter spreading the wildest rumors about him. She had notably managed to uncover that he was a Parselmouth. But her articles were relegated to the back pages. For whatever reason, the Gazette preferred to praise him as a big-hearted hero. He suspected Dumbledore was behind it all. Unless it had something to do with the photo shoot that Fudge had asked him for and which he had accepted on the director's advice.

Two months of ostracism like he hadn't experienced since the second year. Now that he could no longer associate with Nott and no Hufflepuff dared to approach him, he was completely alone at Hogwarts. His only friend was now Scabbers, whom he had gotten into the habit of always having with him on his shoulder or in his pocket. Much to the dismay of Professor Snape, who did not appreciate some of his antics. Harry systematically defended him, but he wished the rat would stop mocking the Potions professor.

Two months during which his decision to leave the wizarding world once all this was over became firm. Nothing held him here anymore. Magic was wonderful. Flying on a broom, the best thing that had ever happened to him. But the wizarding society disgusted him. So it was with joy that on the day of his final exams, he went to Dumbledore's office, where he had been summoned.

Immediately he saw the Hufflepuff cup sitting in the center of the desk next to a basilisk fang. He wasted no time destroying the Horcrux.

He was thinking of leaving, but the director held him back to show him the memory of a ministry official. In the Pensieve, he saw him go to a shabby cabin to meet Voldemort's maternal grandfather. He was even crazier than Voldemort and had spent the entire memory boasting about the greatness of his lineage by showing off his two treasures: the Slytherin locket and the Gaunt ring. Two family relics with fabulous powers that had been passed down in his family for generations.

Once outside, Dumbledore showed him the memory where Slughorn had explained to Riddle what Horcruxes were. He didn't understand why Dumbledore wanted him to revisit this memory until he saw it. On Riddle's finger was the Gaunt ring.

Harry came out of the memory shouting:

The ring is the last Horcrux.

I think so too.

Do you think it's in the Nott's vault? Now that we know what we're looking for, we could use the same technique as for the cup.

I fear it won't work as well the second time. Anyway, after visualizing this memory, I tried to go to that cabin.In order to learn more. As I approached these woods, I immediately felt an intense concentration of dark magic.

Professor, I think we should go to that cabin.

Undoubtedly. Nevertheless, it is a bit late to go today. Tomorrow, when the other students have left Hogwarts to enjoy two months of well-deserved vacation, you will take your invisibility cloak and accompany me for one last school activity.

Then you will free me from Voldemort and I will be able to return to my parents. Harry almost shouted, so immense was his joy.

Yes Harry. I will free you. Replied the old man with visible weariness.

Harry told himself that he should make the effort to remember more often that he was very old. Despite appearances, all of this must be exhausting him. He left him quickly, concerned that he could rest.

He was unaware that, on the contrary, Dumbledore was considering all possible excuses to keep him there and thus avoid being alone with his thoughts. That evening, Dumbledore slept very poorly thinking about what he would have to do the next day...

Volume 4: Harry Dursley, the end of the story

The beginning of the end

For about an hour, Harry and Dumbledore had been walking side by side in the dark forest bordering the Riddle Manor, each entrenched in their thoughts to avoid having to express what they really thought.

For the youngest, it was the hope of putting an end to all this and finally being able to resume a normal life. To see his family again, no longer live in constant fear, and lead a well-ordered and peaceful life. The only adventure he truly aspired to was taking over the management of his adoptive parents' drill factory and taking care of them so that wherever he was, his brother at heart would forgive him for stealing his life.

The thoughts of the eldest were terribly darker. For the greater good, he would soon have to kill an innocent. Another one! He knew he should have remained vigilant, but half of his mind was dedicated to finding a way to avoid this outcome and the other half to finding the strength to do what was necessary rather than what was right.

In order to make things easier for himself, he had spent a large part of the evening trying to hate the child. Listing all his faults and mistakes. He was selfish, cowardly, sarcastic, a fan of dark magic, and above all, very different from what he had expected (Dumbledore did not like being wrong). But thanks to him, a hope he had never considered was about to happen: The greatest dark wizard of all time was going to be destroyed without the slightest bloodshed. And the only reward he desired in return was the right to a normal life. However, the only thing he could offer him was a quick death.

They finally came into view of the cabin. Automatically, the kid got behind him, his wand clenched so tightly in his hand that his knuckles turned white. But it was necessary to keep his wand from slipping away, he was trembling so much. He was terrified, ready to abandon him at the slightest danger and did not try to hide it.

This behavior should have exasperated the former Gryffindor that he was. But despite all his efforts, he could not deny that what he had before his eyes was a frightened child who had already sacrificed far too much for the greater good. For yes, he was above all a child. Not one of those fearless and faultless heroes that abound in literature. How could he blame him for being cowardly and selfish? By comparison, he himself had shown far less courage and altruism at the same age.

While continuing the thread of his thoughts, he began to move forward and naturally, the child followed him. No doubt motivated by the desire to finally be done with it and not remain alone in this place so laden with dark magic that it was almost palpable.

His thoughts turned to his youth and inevitably to the greatest mistake of his life: Gellert. During that summer, the handsome stranger had been his world. For him and his grand plans, he was ready to sacrifice everything, including his responsibilities. But it was Ariana who had paid the price. At the memory of his younger sister, a wave of sadness gripped him. Lost in his thoughts, he barely noticed that he had entered the dilapidated cabin without encountering the slightest obstacle. With a single glance, he saw that the tiny dwelling did notcontained nothing interesting. Yet they were in the right place. The hand that his young acolyte brought to his scar confirmed it to him.

He began to chant spells, each more complicated than the last, in order to discover the location of the Horcrux. Without understanding why, in the middle of his litany, the thought of Ariana imposed itself on him again. He tried to push it away and focus on his task, but he kept seeing her accusatory face. After a while, he felt such guilt that he stopped mid-incantation, Albus could no longer remember what came next.

It was then that he saw it, there in the middle of the room, simply placed on the only piece of furniture still standing in the house: the Gaunt ring, set with the object of all his fantasies since his encounter with Gellert. How could the Resurrection Stone be here? How had he not noticed it earlier? He should have asked himself these questions, but the only thing that came to his mind was an irresistible need to put on the ring. He was obsessed with the desire to end more than a century of guilt by bringing back his first victim and finally obtaining forgiveness.

As quickly as his old body allowed, he moved towards the ring. His hand was only a few centimeters away. A doubt arose in him, but he quickly dismissed it.

He then felt a terrible pain and an explosion of dark magic of unprecedented violence made him stagger and he fell to one knee. In front of him, young Harry had taken advantage of his few seconds of doubt to put on the ring. He was screaming in pain as if to tear his vocal cords. After long and intense seconds (which Dumbledore used to regain his senses), the screams turned into an evil laugh and the chosen one's eyes turned red:

Ha ha ha! Finally, I'm back.

Voldemort raised his wand and cast a spell in his direction. Still too weakened to attack or dodge, Dumbledore reflexively summoned a silver shield capable of withstanding the most powerful spells. Alas, to his great displeasure, it was a simple Wingardium Leviosa that came his way.

He had invented this shield spell himself and had never disclosed its secret to anyone. It allowed him to counter all of Voldemort's spells, including the Avada Kedavra, at the cost of a great expenditure of energy. If he kept such a secret and only used it against Voldemort, it was because, in addition to the magical power it required, this spell had a huge weakness: it was completely ineffective against white magic. Usually, Tom's love for dark magic and his disdain for weak spells rendered this weakness unimportant. But today it caused his downfall.

His wand, struck directly, slipped from his hands and landed in Voldemort's hand. But the moment the wand touched his fingers, another flash of magic set the room ablaze. The stone, the wand, and the invisibility cloak (which was in Harry's pocket) began to glow with a supernatural color that evoked death. Voldemort panicked at this phenomenon and abandoned his old enemy, who took the opportunity to call his phoenix and flee the scene.

The last thing Dumbledore saw was a rat coming out of the invisibility cloak and transforming into Peter Pettigrew.

Mobilization of the camp of light

At the beginning of July, everything was calm in the office of the illustrious Professor Dumbledore. The room was bathed in a magnificent summer sun that reflected on the many bronze instruments scattered here and there.

The only sound that could be heard was a sporadic snoring coming from one of the portraits of former directors.

When Dumbledore appeared in the middle of this landscape, he remained paralyzed for several minutes. The contrast between the chaos charged with dark magic he had just left and the calm tinged with the gentle magic of Hogwarts was so violent that it left him stunned. Then, he remembered the emotional mountains he had just experienced and felt the weight of the years descend upon his shoulders. Alas, it was not yet time for him to take a well-deserved rest. He pulled himself together and threw a pinch of Floo powder into the fireplace.

Office of Cornelius Fudge, Minister of Magic.

He tried to cross the hearth but was blocked by an invisible wall. Albus took it in stride and waited. After what seemed like an infinitely long time, a head appeared in the middle of the fire and spoke in a dull voice:

Mr. Cornelius Fudge is in a meeting. In case of emergency, please leave a message with the Secretary of State's office of (…).

But Albus cut him off.

I don't have time for this. I need to urgently speak to Cornelius. Let me through.

You could be Albus Dumbledore himself and it wouldn't exempt you from following procedures. So, in case of emergency, please leave a message with the Secretary of State's office headed by Dolores Umbridge.

But I am Albus Dumbledore!

But of course, as if that had never been done to me before. I was his student, you know, and you don't look like him at all. He is much less old. Replied the official.

Albus took a long breath. Getting angry would only slow him down. More than ever he had to remain in control of himself, he thought before resuming almost jovially:

Yes, I remember you, Jensen. And even back then, you weren't very good at recognizing faces. I was one of the few who believed you when you told Britney that you had mistaken her for her sister at that party organized by Slugorn.

It wasn't my fault, they looked like two peas in a pod.

Albus refrained from saying that Britney's sister was bald and continued:

Mysterious forces were at work that evening. Perhaps you were destined to marry Jordane. I immediately knew you would end up together when I introduced you to him at the ministry's New Year's ball. Come on, in memory of this old man who allowed you to meet the love of your life, make an exception and let me through.

We divorced 10 years ago and she has custody of the kids. The office of the Secretary of State of the Minister is open from Monday to Saturday from 9 am to 8 pm.

Then the employee violently cut off the communication before Albus could add anything. He tried to contact him again, but he flatly refused the magical connection.

Without wasting time, he took another pinch of Floo powder and shouted:

Ministry of Magic, office of Gwendoline Burbage.

He didn't even try to contact Umbridge directly. Albus knew that old toad never left her fireplace open, in order to impose a wait on her visitors proportional to her relationship with the petitioner (and his relations with Umbridge were colder than the ice cap). Usually, Albus was understanding of this kind of pettiness from ministry officials, thinking it was a rather harmless way to assert their authority over visitors. Especially when, like Umbridge, they had spent their careers seeing their legitimacy questioned because they didn't have the right gender or a sufficiently prestigious family. But today, he definitely didn't have time for such nonsense. He stuck his head into the unprotected fireplace.

Albus. But what are you doing here? Gwendoline exclaimed, raising her head from the multitude of urgent-stamped files covering her desk.

An emergency. I need to speak to the ministry right away. Go fetch Umbridge immediately.

Yes well, we only have emergencies here, so you'll wait like everyone else. No, but that's the limit. You show up like this unannounced and Gwendoline would have to bend over backward to solve your little problems? Well, you know what, Gwendoline is tired of being treated like a maid by everyone. I have my emergencies too. She blurted before Dumbledore could get a word in.

Then with a backhand, she sent the files scattered on her desk flying, triggering a paper storm before taking out a fashion magazine and leafing through it calmly.

Albus said cautiously:

I understand that you have your problems, but I must insist...

I'm on a break, can't you see?

Voldemort is back and I need to speak with the minister as soon as possible so that we can organize the response.

At the mention of that cursed name, she started violently and said in a trembling voice.

No, but is it okay to make up stories like that?

Why on earth would I do that? Voldemort has just been reborn, but he is still weak. If we act quickly, we can prevent him from regaining his power and plunging the wizarding world back into chaos.

Gwendoline ran out of her office and returned less than a minute later accompanied by a very upset Dolores Umbridge, being dragged forcefully by her own subordinate (moreover, because of her main political rival). Once in front of the fireplace, Umbridge declared with a very clearly forced smile:

My very dear Albus, I understand that you had a good reason to deliberately violate the ministry's protocols. Unfortunately, in my capacity as a senior official, I am compelled to remind you of the rules and deny you any audience. It is not against you. It's just that ..

Stop these little hypocritical games immediately. You hate me and so do I. Nevertheless, we must unite to face Voldemort.

Let's see Albus, you're becoming senile. The Dark Lord has been gone for 13 years. At your age, you should be careful not to expose yourself to the sun too much.

Thank you for your suggestion, but before deciding to retire and letting you apply for my succession as president of theMagenmagot, I would like to get the minister's opinion. Let's let him decide which of us should take a well-deserved break to clear our minds.

I am sorry, but without S24 authorization, signed by the heads of the twelve departments, I am not allowed to let you through, nor to forward your call to the Minister. Of course, if you wish to obtain this authorization, I can transmit it to you, but don't forget that you need the B12 pass to get an appointment with the heads of the Ministry of Magic's departments. One per director, of course.

Knowing that it would lead to nothing, Dumbledore cut the connection. He then had an epiphany. He took another pinch of Floo powder and shouted:

Residence of Mr. Alfred Warrington, personal butler to the Minister of Magic.

Albus congratulated himself on being one of the few people to pay attention to the small staff during his many meetings with the minister. At least until he realized that this fireplace was also protected by a spell against intrusions. Fortunately, a head soon appeared in the fire:

What do you want from me? Pronounced with a strong Scottish accent the head of a man who seemed even older than Albus.

Excuse me for bothering you, but could you go tell the Minister of Magic that I urgently need to talk to him about Voldemort.

No, he's not in the port, he's in his office. Try calling the old witch, what's her name again? Oh yes, Umbridge. I was already there when she was just a little girl, just out of Hogwarts. She's come a long way since then, the dark-haired one...

No, I want to talk to him about Voldemort. Dumbledore interrupted.

The old man withdrew and returned a few seconds later with an ear trumpet.

Let me through, I must warn Cornelius that Voldemort is back.

You're starting to annoy me with the port. I'm telling you he's in his office.

Exasperated, Dumbledore gave up and tried to contact the head of the Auror Office, but once again, he was blocked. The head of a Ministry employee appeared in the flames:

Oh Dumbledore. It is with great pleasure that Scrimgeour will meet with you. However, he is very busy at the moment and we must follow procedures. For an appointment with the head of the department, please fill out form A-38 to obtain pass B12.

I don't have time, I must see him urgently.

I am sorry, but he is unavailable, but you can leave me a message and I will pass it on to him as soon as his meeting is over.

Now clearly exasperated, he screamed on the verge of hysteria:

Voldemort has just been reborn more powerful than ever. Gather all available Aurors immediately. We must go to the site of his rebirth and confront him before he gathers his followers. He has probably already deserted the place, but we have to give it a try.

Sorry? What are you talking about? Is this a bad joke?

Do I look like I'm joking? Hurry up, every minute counts. Said Dumbledore, taking on his most authoritative air and letting his power radiate.

The young employee in front of him turned pale and seemed to crumble before his authority, but replied:

I am sorry, but the office is empty. All the aurors are mobilized to ensure the security of the World Cup and to check the entries and exits of the territory. Many criminals are trying to take advantage of the massive arrivals of wizards from all over the planet to smuggle in dark magic artifacts.

Dumbledore was about to answer when the door of his office was burst open by a Severus Snape as pale as a sheet, clutching his right arm.

Albus, my mark. The Dark Lord is calling me. He is back.

After that, Dumbledore cut the connection without realizing that his interlocutor had turned even paler upon understanding that it was definitely not a bad joke.

I am aware and I am trying in vain to alert the ministry. Contact Minerva and all the members of the Order of the Phoenix you can. We must be ready to leave in 10 minutes at the latest. And above all, there's no need to play spies. The Dark Lord probably has access to all of Potter's memories. He knows which side you are on.

Severus regretted feeling relieved upon hearing that. He had thousands of questions to ask, but promptly obeyed his mentor.

Dumbledore took advantage of this brief respite to go to his quarters and opened a dresser. Usually, when he opened these drawers, he lingered on the photos of Gellert and Arianna that were there. But today he simply grabbed the wand he had abandoned there years earlier. Immediately, he felt a magical flow like he hadn't experienced in 50 years. It felt like reuniting with an old friend. The Elder Wand was undeniably more powerful, but he had never felt such a connection as with his first wand and its unicorn hair.

Once this was done, he allowed himself, after hours of constraints, to sit down and breathe. All these adventures were no longer for his age.

He decided to devote this moment of calm to resting and thinking. But the more he thought about what had just happened, the more he panicked. Voldemort possessed the three Deathly Hallows, and he no longer had the Elder Wand. With it, he had barely managed to fend off Voldemort's attacks during their previous duels.

For the first time since his confrontation with Gellert, he felt a sense of fear and helplessness at the thought of a fight. But he could not back down. He had to try at all costs to confront Voldemort before he understood how to use the relics or found allies. Or rather, more allies. He couldn't believe he had seen Pettigrew.

This called many things into question and only made him regret the death of Sirius Black the previous year even more. But it was not the time to think about that.

After a few minutes, about ten wizards were in his office waiting with him. Upon Severus's return, he had them all Apparate to the edge of the forest. They entered it cautiously, but it was desperately empty. No trace of the hut or dark magic remained.

As expected, they had been too slow.

Mobilization of the camp of darkness

Author's note:

We are back.

To write you a fanfiction

In order to preserve the fandom from devastation

In order to rally all readers to our fanfiction accounts

In order to crush good taste and spelling mistakes

In order to extend our fame to the bar next door (well, we have the ambitions we can afford)

Serpentfou

Miss-Gotthelf-Snape

The Harry Dursley Team faster than chatGPT

Write a review or it will be war.

Thévenin, yes the war.

Serpentfou takes a big hammer and hits it while shouting:

Get lost, I haven't even published your fanfic yet.

Once again the Yeerks fly to other planets.

…..

A deathly silence falls over the room until coughs are heard.

It was embarrassing. We promise never to do that again.

As promised, here I am again. And I have good news and bad news.

The good news is that in addition to publishing a new chapter, I have added 3 chapters to volume 3. Indeed, chapters 14, 19, and 23 are new chapters. I decided to make this addition because in the current state, I felt that the friendship between Nott and Justin came a bit out of nowhere.

The bad news is thatAnd I change the publication rhythm.

Indeed, recently, I created a blog: https://serpentfou.fr with the aim of centralizing in one place all the things I have written over time (I haven't brought much back so far) and to be a bit freer to do what I want (notably to include images, videos, or music in the middle of my stories).

On the blog, I will publishin fullthe stories as soon as they are written. Whereas on fanfiction.net, I would publish at the rate of one or two chapters per week. That way, it would satisfy both those who prefer a slow release and those who prefer to read everything at once.So from now on on fanfiction.net, I will only publish one chapter per week every Thursday. Unless the chapter is too short, in which case I will publish 2 at once.

oOoOoOoOo

A few hours earlier:

Endoloris! Despicable traitor Peter, how dare you present yourself before me?

Peter was moaning softly on the ground after enduring his master's wrath. With a superhuman effort, he knelt and explained in a plaintive voice:

But, my lord, I was only following your orders.

My orders! How dare you miserable rat? Crucio! You helped him destroy my horcruxes. Accused Voldemort between two torture spells.

You had said that your horcruxes were well protected. That I just had to protect Potter until you managed to possess him completely.

Do not lie to me. Even a vermin residue like you should have understood that I just didn't have time to give you the rest of my instructions before the arrival of Sirius Black. Crucio! You prevented the collar from possessing him. Voldemort shouted again.

But master, how could I have guessed that you had entrusted one of your Horcruxes to Sirius's brother? Pleaded Peter.

I never entrusted him with one of my horcruxes, you dark fool. And look me in the eyes when I speak to you.

As soon as Peter looked up at his master, he felt as if his mind was torn in two. Voldemort was probing his mind with all his malevolent power, without worrying about the damage this thorough examination might cause to his servant's mind. Peter had to muster everything he had learned from spying on the occlumency lessons between Snape and Harry, just to avoid fainting. After what seemed like an eternity to him, Peter felt the malevolent mind withdraw. He felt tainted by its passage, but he was far too busy wondering what the smile on Harry's face meant to be offended. Was Voldemort smiling in anticipation of the tortures he was going to inflict on him for his lack of devotion, or had Snape's tricks allowed him to deceive the dark lord once again?

I see, you sensed the dark magic and you thought to protect him from a trap left by the Blacks for the upstarts who would dare to defile their ancestral home after their disappearance. How can you claim to be a wizard if you can't even differentiate your master's magic from that of his decadent fools? You are a disgrace to your blood.

Peter couldn't believe his luck and continued without giving his master time to think any further.

Master, I beg your pardon. I swear to you that since our last meeting, I have worked in the shadows to isolate Harry from his friends and to find a way to hasten your return. But Dumbledore was constantly watching him in secret. The only time I was free to move was during his visit to the Nott manor, but I had to settle for discreetly guiding the investigation of that journalist to hasten Harry's departure. I did not want to risk him eventually discovering another of your horcruxes.

Peter uttered this last sentence hoping that Voldemort would never have the bad idea of checking with Rita Skeeter. After all, if Voldemort relied on Harry's memories, apart from Peter in his rat form, no one else was present at that moment to report everything to the journalist. His lie would be credible and might convince him that he had served him faithfully.

This time Voldemort did not prolong the suspense:

I forgive your stupidity, this time. But know that there will be no second chance.

Peter advanced towards his master and kissed his feet. Then, in a pathetic voice, he pronounced:

Thank you, master. I will not disappoint you.

You'd better. Now, are you going to tell me everything you know about what just happened? What kind of spell did Dumbledore cast on this cloak?

I don't know, master. At no point did I see him approach it.

You are definitely perfectly useless. Unless you are feigning incompetence to avoid revealing what you know. I advise you to tell me everything.Thanks to my vast knowledge, I already have a good idea of the magic at play here and it would seem surprising to me that Dumbledore could have cast such a powerful spell without you noticing.

Panicked, Peter searched his memory for the slightest scrap of information. However, nothing came to him. He thought about inventing another lie, but the risk was too great that it would be inconsistent with what Voldemort knew about the powerful magic that had emanated from the cloak, ring, and wand that now adorned Harry's body. Peter had never heard of such magic. It was both so different and so similar to dark magic. Both darker and gentler. More terrible and calmer.

I swear to you that I know nothing, master.

An expression of disbelief appeared for a few seconds on Harry's face. It was so fleeting that Peter thought he was dreaming. But he didn't have time to wonder as he felt his mind being invaded again. But this time, the pure hatred that made up the destructive mind tearing through his memories was tinged with another emotion. An emotion he wouldn't have believed Voldemort capable of feeling. Voldemort was afraid. Was it possible that even he knew nothing of this terrifying magic?

Ah! Let's forget about that for the moment. Your incompetence has already made me waste enough time, and we must hurry if we want to have a chance to get ahead of Dumbledore.

Voldemort grabbed Peter by the arm and a second later they Apparated.

oOoOoOo

Master Malfoy, the mail has arrived. Pronounced fearfully a house-elf covered in bandages and a pillowcase of more than dubious hygiene. Then he stepped forward to the Malfoy's breakfast table and bowed so low that his nose touched the floor.

Okay, leave that here.

The elf bowed again, then placed the mail on one of the few free spaces on the table overloaded with exquisite dishes and Chinese porcelain vases, containing the latest bouquets arranged by Narcissa, from the flowers grown in the Malfoy manor greenhouses.

Since her only son had gone to Hogwarts, she had discovered a passion for flowers. Of course, she didn't cultivate them herself. The last of the Blacks would never lower herself to plunge her hands into dirt like a common mudblood. Moreover, as her husband liked to point out, jobs had to be provided for those parasites. Thus, by hiring a few of them to satisfy his wife's latest whim, they were killing two birds with one stone. They were helping to put them in their place while dispelling accusations of racism against them. 'Racism'! When she thought about it, Narcissa fumed. A word, not an ideology, imported from those Muggle animals to allow pseudo-intellectuals to deny biological realities.

But this morning, only one thing occupied Narcissa Malfoy's mind. Snape had promised to write to them, to inform them of their son's results. She trembled with impatience, and if it hadn't been for the rules of propriety, she would have long since pounced on the letter bearing the Hogwarts seal. Instead, she let her husband calmly take the letter and watched impatiently as he delicately unsealed it. Usually, Narcissa congratulated herself for marrying such an elegant and refined husband. But now she just wanted news of her son.

So my darling? What's new? Narcissa simpered.

Lucius looked at his wife tenderly, then his face broke into a mocking smile:

Excellent my beloved. Thanks to the World Cup, the revenues from our flying broom wood operations reached new heights in the first half of the year.

Cursed Lucius. If there was one character trait of her husband that she had never been able to stand, it was his humor. Fortunately, Lucius had learned to fear his wife's anger and quickly added:

Another source of rejoicing has reached us. My very dear friend Severus kept his promise. Neglecting his sleep, he obtained Draco's results in advance. Of course, as his blood suggested, they are excellent. This year, he should be at the top of his class. He even managed to surpass the son of the noble and ancient house of Nott. Severus insists, with his usual lack of tact, that this achievement is less due to Draco's work than to the stress caused to the Nott heir by the slanders the gazette deemed fit to pour on his name. Nevertheless, with such results, Dumbledore will be obliged to appoint him prefect.

My dear, it is far too early for this kind of consideration. The selection of prefects is only in two years. Narcissa reminded.

My invaluable companion, success is a prey that can only be captured after constant planning. It is never too early to start seizing what one deserves.

Certainly, but by rushing too much, we risk forgetting to pick up the treasures that line the path to the glory we both aspire to for our offspring. Today is a time for rejoicing. I know your feelings towards our son, but it would not be superfluous to express your pride in him more clearly. I would be grateful if you could take this opportunity to offer him the congratulations he deserves.

You are absolutely right, my Bird of Paradise (author's note: it's the name of a flower that symbolizes royalty in many cultures). I will clear my day and as soon as he returns from Hogwarts, I will take him to Diagon Alley to enjoy one of those ice creams he likes so much. Will you do us the honor of joining us?

How touching! Roared a child's voice with an icy tone.

Narcissa turned around hastily, grabbing her wand and once again rejoicing in having conceded during the last war the sacrilege of sewing a wand pocket on the sleeves of her luxurious master robe. At the time, it would have been suicidal to part with it for even a moment (even to go to sleep). In a second, she was in combat position, ready to face the intruder who had so rudely interrupted them. However, upon realizing it was only a child in a Hogwarts uniform, she almost let down her guard.

Then her eyes met those of the intruder, and she tightened her grip on her wand. They were red as blood, and his gaze exuded something dangerous. Something inhuman. Narcissa searched through the long list of dark creatures she had encountered, but the only idea that came to mind was that of a werewolf that had recently killed. But that was absurd. It was still broad daylight, and the manor's defenses would never have allowed such impure blood to soil the ground of the noble Malfoy house. In any case, Narcissa was about to chase the intruder away when her husband bowed, trembling:

Master, I was waiting for your return with such impatience.

Lucius! But you are being unreasonable, I am going right now …

Silence woman or you'll regret it. Lucius interrupted violently.

Narcissa was so stunned that for a few seconds she stopped breathing. Never had Lucius dared to speak to her like that. She was about to scream at him what she thought of this change when she realized it wasn't the surprise that had stopped her breathing. An extremely powerful dark magic was gripping her neck and blocking her breath. She panicked so much that she didn't notice her visitor had started speaking again:

Lucius, I am pleased to note that you are still as perceptive as ever. What a shame that your loyalty is not as developed. May I know what kept you from coming to your master's aid all this time? Hadn't you sworn eternal loyalty to me?

Master, I thought you were dead. Lucius pleaded in response.

So what? I'm pretty sure I didn't include 'until death do us part' in the Death Eaters' oath. Did you confuse it with your marriage contract? Voldemort mocked.

Master, let her breathe. You are going to kill her. I beg you. Pleaded Lucius.

You might have thought of that before. After all, you had 14 years for that. 14 long years during which I waited for my faithful Death Eaters to bring me the help they promised me. However, Voldemort is a merciful lord. I will grant you an additional extension to pay your debt. But this is the last time.

Harry Voldemort lowered his hand. Immediately Narcissa fell to her knees and, forgetting all notions of elegance, gasped for large gulps of air directly from the ground.

Lucius, for his part, knelt down and began to kiss his lord's feet, covering him with thanks (and drool). But Voldemort, with an annoyed look, cut off his outpourings.

That is enough. You will very soon have the opportunity to prove your gratitude to me in a more concrete way. Thanks to the memory of my host, I was pleased to learn that you have not completely abandoned our noble fight. Tell me...

Do you have access to all of Potter's memories? Lucius interrupted in a trembling voice.

Endoloris !!

Yelled Harry, pulling out his wand at lightning speed, just before Lucius began to scream under Narcissa's panicked gaze.

How dare you interrupt your master? Have these years made you lose all discipline? We will have to remedy that. But not now. For the moment, time is pressing. We must act quickly to get ahead of Dumbledore. Tell me, do you still have contacts within the Gazette?

Of course, master. But forgive me. I fear that Dumbledore and Fudge have conspired to relegate them to subordinate positions. Now, the gazette is primarily loyal to the ministry.

Incompetents! Voldemort yelled in anger, releasing his magic.

Under the terrified eyes of the two spouses, the precious wood of the furniture cracked and the windows shattered. In a protective reflex, for the only being stubborn enough to have managed to pierce his shell, Malfoy covered his wife's body to protect her from the shards of glass falling on them.

Once calmed, Voldemort berated him:

I don't care who you have to threaten or bribe for that, but if you want any chance of me forgiving your failings, you willManage to ensure that before the end of the day, the gazette releases a special edition with the text I will give you. After that, I will gather the rest of my followers. I wonder how many will have the courage to return when they feel my call? And how many will be foolish enough to stay away?

Then without waiting for a response, he turned around and left the room. As soon as he was out of sight, he staggered and leaned against a wall covered with a splendid tapestry embroidered with gold thread depicting one of the Malfoy family's ancestors riding alongside William the Conqueror.

For a wizard of his age, his host was powerful, but he was still a child. His magical core was not yet sufficiently developed to support such a display of power for long. Nevertheless, for Voldemort, it was unthinkable to show the slightest weakness. And certainly not in front of his Death Eaters. His childhood had convinced him that only the strong could live. The weak have only the right to beg for their survival and a bit of dignity. Nevertheless, he was aware that he could not maintain the illusion for long. At the first duel against the forces of light, the truth would come out. For now, he would have to fight Dumbledore by more subtle means. Voldemort hated this situation. It reminded him too much of his younger years when he had been at the mercy of supposedly wise and benevolent adults. He had to regain his power as quickly as possible.

And it started by breaking the spirit of that unbearable kid before he made another blunder. Voldemort was not stupid. If Lucius had dared to interrupt him, it was because he had already made one, which had aroused suspicions in him about the true power of his master. Voldemort wanted to avoid having to kill one of his most intelligent Death Eaters. Again, he focused on his host's mind and once more, he was repelled by powerful Occlumency barriers. He recognized Snape's work and cursed Dumbledore for having torn away the loyalty of one of his most talented servants.

Voldemort straightened up and called:

Peter!

Immediately, a rat came out of his pocket and transformed back into a miserable, trembling, and kneeling wizard. In his presence, Voldemort did not need to simulate strength. Nothing would ever be as weak as this human waste.

Yes, master? Peter asked respectfully.

Stretch out your arm.

My Lord, if you do that, your servants will Apparate by following the mark.

I am fully aware of it. But it seems to me that I gave you an order. Peter obeyed, trembling.

Voldemort touched Peter's mark, which immediately began to burn him terribly. The mark was now as clear and painful as on the first day.

Master, the protections of the manor will disarticulate your servants.

I am well aware, idiot. That's why I only summoned that traitor Snape. I have little hope he will fall into the trap, but in any case, the mark will give him a sample of my anger. Instead of discussing my decisions, make yourself useful and ensure this letter quickly reaches 4 Privet Drive. Voldemort ordered, conjuring with a wave of his wand a letter overflowing with nauseating sentiment, the text of which he had mentally drafted during the journey to Malfoy Manor.

Yes master.

Peter ran off to accomplish his task. At least that miserable worm knew his place. While waiting for his magical core to recharge enough for him to safely summon his other Death Eaters, Voldemort ironically inspected the magnificent tapestry depicting the great deeds that had earned the Malfoys their titles of nobility. The extensive research he had conducted in his youth on the history of purebloods (in order to discover who his father was and why he had abandoned him) had taught him that the ancestor of the Malfoys had nothing to do with this noble knight. In all likelihood, the first of the Malfoys was an illiterate mercenary fighting on foot because he was too poor to afford a horse and barely mastering his powers. At that time, Beauxbâtons did not exist, and most French wizards lived among Muggles, completely unaware of their potential.

It was only during the first assault of the Battle of Hastings, where the Norman army narrowly avoided being exterminated due to the display of power by the Weasley clan, that Malfoy and his superiors became aware of its potential. During the second assault, he was ordered to face one of the Weasleys in a duel. In this duel, he was quickly put out of action by Perceval Weasley. Nevertheless, due to Perceval Weasley's foolish chivalric values, he spared him after humiliating him.

Despite his defeat, Malfoy had completed his mission. The wizard had been occupied long enough to allow a handful of Norman knights to kill King Harold II of England. Thus, the Duke of Normandy could claim the English throne and ennoble Malfoy for his decisive role. Of course, none of this was depicted on this tapestry. But despite all their efforts, even today the Malfoys behaved like an upstart family needing to prove their status, while the Weasleys, whose degeneration had gone so far as to mix their blood with that of common Muggles, continued to behave as if their status was owed to them. All these ironies, injustices, and lies delighted Voldemort. So many flaws he could exploit to reinforce his own lies and conquer power.

oOoOoOoOo

Author's note: Voldemort's psychology in this chapter was influenced by what he shows in the fic: "Tom Riddle and the Curse of the Heart" by my beta Miss-Gotthelf-Snape.

Special edition

Return to the present

Dumbledore turned to face the assembly. After this pointless expedition to the Gaunt residence, he had to face the suspicious looks of the wizards gathered urgently by Severus. For the first time, he took the time to detail those present. There were, of course, the four heads of the Hogwarts houses: Minerva McGonagall, Severus Snape, Pomona Sprout, Filius Flitwick, joined by Rubeus Hagrid.

Dumbledore was not sure he approved of Severus's choice to involve Sprout and Flitwick. They were highly talented wizards, but they had no combat experience and Dumbledore doubted they would prove useful. Flitwick was indeed a former dueling champion, but Dumbledore had discovered bitterly that war had nothing to do with these competitions based on an extremely strict code of honor. Who could tell how the jovial wizard would react when his life was threatened? In previous wars, he had seen too many excellent wizards perish, paralyzed by fear or killed from behind after wanting to adhere to moral rules that only applied in peacetime, to look favorably on complete novices accompanying him on such a dangerous mission. But it was true that in such a short time, it was inevitable to call upon their help.

The other recruits of Severus satisfied Dumbledore more. There was his eternal companion in battles: Mad-Eye Moody, with his apprentice Nymphadora Tonks and a handful of other Aurors (like Kingsley Shacklebolt), who trusted his old friend enough to leave their posts on a simple request (at the risk of receiving a severe reprimand).

However, they all now looked accusingly at Mad-Eye for having made them move without any valid reason. It didn't take a Merlin to understand that they were wondering if the rumors about the legendary Auror's senility were true. Well, almost all of them. Nymphadora, for her part, was content to shoot dark looks at everyone, which for the moment dissuaded her colleagues from making any criticism against her mentor. As for Mad-Eye, he pretended to be indifferent to what was happening behind his back and fixed his two eyes on Dumbledore, clearly waiting for an explanation.

More than ever, Dumbledore was going to have to play the role of the all-knowing and all-powerful wise old man. He cursed the circumstances that had led him to take on this role that suited neither his character nor his abilities, eroded by age. Nevertheless, another lesson that previous wars had painfully taught him was that to overcome their fear of dying and throw themselves wholeheartedly into battle, most humans needed to believe that a superior being would watch over them. Or a leader more frightening than death itself. But Dumbledore had decided to leave the exclusivity of this second command technique to Voldemort.

In any case, he was going to have to be convincing if he didn't want to find himself alone against Voldemort. Especially since if he couldn't convince them, how could he hope to convince the rest of the wizarding world?

My friends, I realize how difficult it may be to believe, but Voldemort is back. Dumbledore suddenly declared.

He waited for the wizards present to stop grimacing before continuing:

After long research, I discovered that at the height of his glory, Voldemort had created several objects that would allow him to return among the living.alive by taking possession or stealing the life energy of the unfortunate victim who would fall upon it. This is what almost happened to the youngest of the Weasleys last year. At the time, it was only thanks to the intervention as heroic as it was lucky of Harry Potter that she was able to get out of it.

In front of the skeptical expressions of the aurors, he added:

I can state without too much error that Miss Weasley will be delighted to confirm my words and describe in detail the intervention of her savior. Of course, from the beginning of the first war, I suspected the existence of these objects. Nevertheless, the failure of my research to find them had convinced me that the magic required to create them was so dark that even Voldemort had not succeeded in implementing it. However, after the tragic events of that dark year, I was forced to revise my judgment. I have therefore devoted the past year to searching for these objects. Nevertheless, the renewed failure of my research, combined with the content of a prophecy concerning Potter and Voldemort...

Seeing that Nymphadora Tonks was about to ask a question, he added:

Yes, there is a prophecy about Harry and the Dark Lord, but even though Voldemort knows of its existence, he is unaware of its exact content. Well, I doubt that is still the case. But for your own safety, I will not reveal anything to you until I am reasonably sure. Anyway, let's continue. Reluctantly, I included young Potter in my research and prophetic magic did its work. We discovered his objects, one by one, and destroyed them in record time. All except one, which we suspected was in the ancestral home of Voldemort that you just visited.

This miserable hut cannot have sheltered the Dark Lord. Severus interrupted.

Unfortunately, he grew up in an even more miserable place. But I assure you that it was indeed his family home. So this morning, Potter and I went there in search of the object. Unfortunately, he found us. Before I could do anything, Voldemort came back to life and possessed young Potter. A duel ensued, but thanks to a surprise attack, he managed to take my wand, forcing me to flee to get reinforcements. The rest, you know.

And of course, we only have your word and this far-fetched story. The youngest of the Aurors named John Dawlish (if Dumbledore remembered correctly) replied violently.

There is also my mark. How do you explain that it is so clear? Severus replied, revealing his left arm that had been torturing him for hours now...

Keep that horror away from me, Death Eater! Since the death of the Dark Lord, it is just a tattoo. Who's to say he didn't revive his own mark to abuse Dumbledore's trust?

What interest would I have in doing that? Severus snapped, once again noting the unfathomable stupidity of human beings.

I don't know anything about it for the moment. Maybe to discredit Dumbledore and allow your old friend Lucius Malfoy to take his place as president of the Wizengamot. But don't worry: I will find out. And at that moment, I will make sure you rot in Azkaban with your colleagues for the rest of your days.

Without waiting for a response, he left the director's office, taking half of his colleagues with him. Dumbledore didn't know how, but he found the strength to hold them back by using all his rhetorical tricks and prestige. But it had exhausted him. He no longer had the strength to fight. He was so old and tired. Fortunately, the house heads had no difficulty accepting his account. Even though the looks Pomona gave him indicated that he would have to endure another complicated discussion before finally being able to go to bed. What a shame the child hadn't been sorted into Gryffindor as he had planned. It would have been much easier to get Minerva to accept the situation and his choices. She was no less attached to the safety of her students than Pomona, but she was more accustomed to her pupils stupidly risking their lives. Not to mention that during the first war, she had unfortunately learned to accept the unacceptable.

Dumbledore was tired of his thoughts when an owl flew into the room and dropped a copy of the Daily Prophet in front of him. Dumbledore curiously reached out for the paper. It was a simple sheet with "Special Edition" written on it. With growing curiosity, Dumbledore unfolded the sheet. The newspaper hadn't made a special edition since the end of the war. Even Sirius Black's escape hadn't been considered important enough for that.

Dumbledore read the headline and choked. Reflexively, he set the newspaper on fire so that no one would see what it contained. Then he forced himself to calm down and think. He shouldn't have reacted that way. Sooner or later, the aurors would learn the vile news, and his reaction would only confirm their suspicions. Yet another proof that he was not infallibly wise. Voldemort had undeniably struck his first blow. He now had to think about his counterattack. Dumbledore was convinced that the key to Victory lay in the prophecy. Thus, he recited it mentally before deciding anything. But his thoughts were disturbed by the feeling of forgetting a detail. An important detail. To get rid of this impression, he forced himself to recall the horrible article. Then he jumped up, all fatigue forgotten, stood up, and ordered, projecting his power:

We must go immediately to King Cross.

The house directors were the first to regain their composure and follow him, concerned for the safety of their students even though the Hogwarts Express should have arrived safely several hours ago.

Dumbledore did not pay attention to whether he was being followed or not. He only thought of one thing: "I hope I don't arrive too late, or all hope is lost."

oOoOoOo

At the same time at King-Cross station, Petunia Dursley was worried sick. It had been a long time since the last child had gotten off that cursed train, but there was no sign of their son. She had been so happy that morning upon receiving that letter from Harry. The first since his escape last summer. Petunia had never read such a heartbreaking letter. Without revealing anything, Harry explained that he was sorry for what he had to do to them and begged them to forgive him. He told them he might be late, but that he would arrive today via the Hogwarts Express to return home for good.

After what she had learned about Harry's first year at Hogwarts, she dreaded finding out what horror had caused her son to turn his back on them like that last year. But this time Petunia vowed that the secrets were over. She would answer any questions he might ask about his parents.and in exchange, she would demand that he tell her in detail everything that had happened to him in the wizarding world. And above all, she would do everything in her power to make him understand that he was welcome in her home. She had even managed to convince Vernon to make an appointment with a therapist for family therapy (which was no small feat given his strong prejudices against psychologists). But all her good intentions would be in vain if her son was not returned to her.

True to himself, Vernon had waited with growing impatience. After all, his son's letter clearly stated that he might be a little late (even if he didn't understand how one could arrive after their train, but he attributed that to the absurdity of the wizarding world). However, after several hours, he was just furious and went to the nearest counter to vent his bad mood on the unfortunate clerk, who couldn't understand the cause of this Muggle's anger.

Vernon, not noticing that his interlocutor was unable to understand him, began to become violent towards the magically reinforced glass that separated him from the disgruntled customers. He also did not notice that owls were invading platform 9 3/4, nor that all the wizards waiting for their connection were frantically reading a newspaper sheet or spreading out a large photo of their entire family (it dated from when Dudley was still alive). He therefore continued his yelling:

I AM VERNON DURSLEY AND I DEMAND THAT YOU RETURN MY SON TO ME.

A witch then exclaimed:

It's them!

Without understanding what was happening, the Dursleys were quickly surrounded by a crowd of angry wizards, wands raised in their direction. But this barely calmed Vernon's anger, who positioned himself as best he could between the crowd and his terrified wife before shouting:

What do you want from me, you bunch of degenerates?

You are the degenerates!

CAEDIS !!

The spells rained down on the Dursleys and very quickly, they found themselves lying in blood on the station floor. Then, just as Vernon thought he was going to die, an explosion occurred and the spells ceased. Vernon looked up and swallowed. In front of him stood a small humanoid creature less than a meter tall, with bat-like ears, covered despite the early summer heat in a thick layer of shirt forming a kaleidoscope of colors that deeply repulsed Vernon.

Bad Dobby! Bad Dobby! Repeated the creature, apparently preventing itself from banging its head against the floor.

Vernon restrained himself with great difficulty from striking the horrible creature upon realizing that the respite he enjoyed was due to a golden barrier that now separated them from their attacker, which the elf maintained with great effort. Vernon got up and looked for an exit where he could drag Petunia. But wizards blocked access to the only path he knew to the normal world. Only one thing lifted Vernon's spirits. The creature had finally stopped its unbearable litany. Its shrill voice made him want to strangle it. But upon turning around, he realized it was only because it was exhausted.

Dobby had knelt on one knee and seemed to be struggling not to collapse completely, while the spells continued to crash against the barrier.This time, it's the end.Vernon thinks while holding his wife's hand. His life flashed before his eyes. He regretted never learning to better control his anger and abandoning Harry without being able to reassure him of his love, but he was glad to finally see his first son again.

The barrier broke and a wave of suffocating power flooded the area. Even Vernon fully felt the magic as it filled the place. The air seemed to crackle with intense heat, and his vision was distorted by its ripples. But he could still see his assailants vanish and an old wizard walking in their direction: Dumbledore had just arrived.

Vernon did not know whether he should scream in fear, rage, or relief. He opted for a cautious silence. And let the old wizard lead them docilely to the Hogwarts infirmary in a state close to catatonia.

Petunia cried bitterly throughout the journey. In her hands, she held one of the sheets she had managed to pick up before the crowd attacked them. It had been torn to pieces during the lynching they had suffered, but on it, you could still read:

From the Malfoy residence where he has taken refuge, Harry Potter files a complaint against his adoptive parents for severe abuse. On page 2, you will find the report of his early childhood memories that his lawyer allowed our reporters to view in a Pensieve (we remind you that even wizards expert in the mental arts cannot falsify memories in a Pensieve without it being visible).

His lawyer states that Dumbledore was aware of his mistreatment since Harry had confided in him during long meetings they had together last year, but the headmaster intended to force him to return to his horrible Muggles. A complaint has also been filed against him.

For the moment, our reporters have not been able to contact Mr. Dumbledore. However, we do not see what preposterous story he could still invent to get out of this predicament. Mr. Malfoy insisted before our departure that this matter should not be used as an excuse to rekindle hatred against Muggles, even though this matter clearly demonstrates that wizards must protect themselves from their obscurantism and their tendencies towards violence.

Death Eater meeting

Welcome, Death Eaters. Said to the hooded wizards who had just apparated in front of him, a 14-year-old child sitting on a throne, flanked by two men who were none other than Lucius Malfoy and Peter Pettigrew.

Thirteen years... Thirteen years have passed since the last time we saw each other. Yet, you answered my call as if we had parted yesterday... continued Voldemort until one of the men in black interrupted him.

Potter! How dare you summon us? I will teach you what it costs to want to play adult games. Brachialigo!

The spell shot towards Voldemort, who drew his wand so quickly that the Death Eaters thought it had Apparated into his hand. With a careless gesture, he halted the spell a few centimeters from the tip of his wand. Then, without paying attention to the Death Eaters who had begun to kneel, he started to play with the spell. He extracted sparks from it before flicking them away, slowly deconstructing the spell as if it were a child's puzzle. Once the magic was reduced to a few elemental bricks, he made it disappear with a breath. Finally, after a pause carefully calculated to maximize its effect, he declared in a low voice, like a threatening whisper:

Seeing you all in perfect health, with your powers intact, I wondered... How is it that all these wizards never came to the aid of their master to whom they had sworn eternal loyalty? I thought that you believed me broken, gone, disappeared. That you had therefore returned among my enemies, pleading innocence, ignorance... I then wondered... How could they think that I would not return? Those who knew everything I had done, long ago, to protect myself against death? Those who had proof of the vastness of my powers, at the time when I was the most powerful of wizards? Once again, I had imagined an answer. Perhaps they thought that an even greater power might exist, a power that could have defeated Lord Voldemort himself... But thanks to you, Travers, everything is clear now: you are just completely stupid! Crucio! Incompetent! Crucio! Degenerate blood! Anhelatio!He shouted while targeting the dark mages one by one, from now on, kneel before him.

Master, forgive us. Shouted a Death Eater who was just catching his breath after being deprived of it by unbearable pain in his lungs, just before Voldemort raised his wand at him.

Forgive you? FORGIVE YOU! Why should I do that? I am ashamed to have fought by your side. You are the scum of the wizarding world. You ruined my life! He shouted, mad with rage before swaying for a few moments and then continuing more calmly:

Nevertheless, your presence proves that you have the courage to face the consequences of your actions. Voldemort values courage almost as much as loyalty. I will give each of you a chance to be forgiven. Not only will I not kill you, but I also grant you the honor of rejoining the ranks of my servants. And one day, if you serve me well, I will give you the opportunity to redeem yourselves. I will test your loyalty by asking for a sacrifice (all shuddered upon hearing this). Those who accept will be definitively cleansed of their sins and can once again be part of our great family. As for the others, nothing can describe the fate I have in store for them.

oOoOoOoOo

A few hours later, Peter was finally able to leave the throne room and fully immerse himself in his thoughts. He kept wondering why the Dark Lord had been so lenient. Barely a few Doloris, and not even a murder as an example. Moreover, the more he thought about it, the more the speech he had given seemed incoherent or at least different from those he remembered. Could it be that Harry was still there, somewhere inside? No, Peter had to stop deluding himself. He could no longer afford new mistakes due to illusory hopes.

For the first time in a long time, he thought back to that crucial day that had determined his fate. That day when he had begged the Sorting Hat to send him to the same house as the 3 friends he had made on the train and not to Slytherin. The Sorting Hat had warned him that he was making a mistake and that he would not have enough courage to lead the life he had chosen.

For 10 years, he remained convinced that the Sorting Hat had been wrong. Then during a raid by the Order of the Phoenix on a Death Eater's home, he was captured and brought to the Dark Lord. Lupin, Potter, and Black would have died without hesitation to protect him. But after 10 minutes of the master's Cruciatus Curse, he knelt, told him everything he knew, and finally begged him to spare his life. Surprisingly, he agreed.

After subjecting him to the Cruciatus Curse until he fainted, he woke up covered in injuries in his small apartment on Diagon Alley, located above the shop where he was apprenticing.

Someone was knocking frantically at the door. He grimaced and tried to grab a glass of water from his nightstand. But his hand fell on a photo of his mother in a red circle with her address and schedule next to it. He swallowed before putting it away in a drawer. Then, he got dressed to quickly go open the door. He barely had time to crack it open before it was forced open by an angry James Potter, wand pointed at his throat.

How much aconite was used for the potion that turned Servilus's hair red for a week?Zeros. We used spirulina because Sirius had given all our stock of aconite to a girl for Valentine's Day.

Immediately, James had withdrawn his wand and held it in his arms.

Where did you go? We were worried sick. You never came to the debriefing and we spent the night looking for you. We were so worried!

Ouch! James, you're hurting me.

Sorry. But are you hurt?!

James had not asked him any more questions and, despite Peter's protests, had authoritatively taken him to St. Mungo's. Thus, he had spent the afternoon waiting with him, in silence, in a cold corridor of St. Mungo's, as if nothing had happened. As if he had not just betrayed his best friends.

James had complete trust in his friends, and if Peter didn't want to tell him what had happened to him, then he wouldn't force him. Since the beginning of this war, they had all had their difficult moments, moments they didn't necessarily want to talk about with others. At least not immediately. Inevitably, the Marauders ended up telling each other everything. Some just needed time, sometimes, to sort things out in their heads.

But this time, Peter kept to himself what had happened, far too ashamed of having betrayed their secrets to the lord of darkness. He thought back thenBeing able to manage alone, telling himself that he had been taken by surprise, and that next time, he would fight to the death not to betray his friends. The first requests concerned insignificant information and he had given in, thinking that his mother's life was more important.

But little by little, the requested information had become top-notch. Until the day he was asked to confess the address of Ulisse Stokke's hideout. He was a corrupt politician who had joined their ranks after Dumbledore threatened to use his position as president of the Wizengamot to send him to Azkaban. Once again, he didn't have much trouble choosing between the life of that arrogant bastard and that of his mother. But the next day, seeing the dismembered bodies of his comrades who died during the surprise attack on Ulisse's hideout that followed, Peter knew that a line had been crossed. From now on, there was no question of confessing anything. Now his only hope of salvation was that Dumbledore would defeat the dark lord quickly. But each day, the old man grew weaker while the monster grew stronger.

People were dying around him and the ministry seemed on the verge of falling when he received the most terrible order of his life: to deliver the Potters. It was almost a relief to answer that he didn't know where they were hidden. Almost, because that day was when the torture reached the most horrible level. Once it was over, Peter could barely pronounce his name. In addition to physical tortures, he had undergone various mental tortures that had left his mind completely at Voldemort's mercy. He could no longer hide anything from him.

When Sirius had told him about his plan to make him the keeper of their friends' secrets, he had begged him to change his mind. But no one had ever succeeded in changing Sirius Black's mind. He had then wanted to confess everything to him, but it was the lack of courage that failed him.

When the time came for his weekly meeting with the Dark Lord, Peter had thought about fleeing, but once again, he wasn't brave enough. And the next moment, he was kneeling before his throne, tearfully confessing the location of the Potters. Anything rather than relive that horror. Only those who had already been tortured by Voldemort could dare to judge him and call him a coward.

But Voldemort had congratulated and rewarded him by marking him instantly. Peter knew what it meant: when the Potters were dead, Voldemort would reveal his role to the world. Peter would then take his rightful place among his other loyal Death Eaters. Shame and disgust had overwhelmed him when he had lowered himself to kiss his feet.

Finally, the Sorting Hat had been right.

Three months later, the Master had been defeated by Harry, and for Peter, a long escape began.

But upon closer inspection, he had been fleeing since that fateful day when he was first captured by the lord of darkness. Since then, his life had become nothing more than a massive flight forward into the darkness. He had believed that the dark lord would be defeated before his betrayal was discovered. He had believed that he would never return and that Sirius would remain in prison. He had believed that Sirius would be arrested before he could take revenge on him. He had believed that the horcruxes would all be destroyed and that he could spend the rest of his life atoning for his sins by watching over the one he considered his nephew.

Except that until now, he had always seen a light at the end of the tunnel that had pushed him to move forward. Today, only an eternity of servitude stretched out before him. Maybe it was time for him to stop running away. But would he have the courage?

oOoOoOoOo

Lucius, for his part, left the Death Eaters' meeting thinking anxiously about the future. Unlike Peter, Lucius almost never thought about the past. As far as he was concerned, it was a waste of time to think about what could not be changed. In any case, the only significant event in his past had been the birth of his son. Everything else had been nothing but cold socializing, bloody murders, hushed discussions in the alcoves of the Wizengamot, and other burdensome duties incumbent upon the heir of a great house like his.

Although perhaps it was the right day to think about Draco? The child had made quite a scene when he ran into him after returning from his meeting with the deputy editor of the gazette. He, who thought he could rest for a few moments, had to explain why he hadn't come to pick him up at the train station. As if Lucius Malfoy had nothing better to do than come to see him after school! To him, this demand seemed absurd and convinced him that he had been far too lenient with his heir. He himself would never have dared to be so cheeky with his own father. Not that he completely disliked it, but he wanted Draco to grow up aware of his rank and the duties that come with it.

However, his master would soon notice the many deviations from the traditional pureblood education that he had had to concede over the years. Lucius had known his master for a long time now. He knew that he never used the word sacrifice lightly. He knew what it meant in his case. Sooner or later, he would demand Draco from him. Lucius could still hear his own father's voice assuring him that it was a great honor, while instructing him to offer his right arm to the one he perceived as a monster. At first, he hadn't believed his father and had found this mark hideous. Then, as he grew up, he understood and devoted himself body and soul to the service of his master and the regeneration of the wizarding world.

It was the only voice worthy of a wizard. He should have been proud to be able to deliver a son to the cause. However, the mere idea of seeing the mark appear on his heir's virgin skin caused him an irreparable discomfort. All of this was his wife's fault, thought Lucius. Nott was lucky that circumstances had freed him from his burdensome marital burden. He was thus able to fulfill his educational duties without having to concede anything to maternal instincts. Nevertheless, deep down, Lucius knew he was wrong to blame his wife. He could never have treated Draco as harshly as Nott's son had been treated. But if he had, Draco would have had some chance of surviving what awaited him. Merlin! How was Draco going to survive, when during his initiation ceremony into dark magic, he had not even been able to bear the sight of Theodore Nott's very fine performance on that house-elf, Lucius Malfoy worried. Whatever he had thought at the time, this excess of sensitivity was unacceptable. He should have reacted much more firmly at the time.

But nothing was decided yet. The lord of darkness would certainly leave him little free time, but he promised to dedicate it entirely to the re-education of his son. And that would start with intensive occlumency lessons.

oOoOoOo

Author's note: In this chapter, I haveplagiarizedborrowed a passage from the fanfiction:Harry Potter et les Méthodes de la Rationalité  

Order meeting

The next morning at Hogwarts

We must immediately launch an assault on Malfoy Manor and finish it as quickly as possible. Shouted Mad-Eye Moody, pounding his fist on the table.

After the rescue of the Dursleys, Dumbledore had spent the rest of the day (and night) summoning all the former members of the Order of the Phoenix. This morning, as he opened the meeting, he noted with mixed pleasure that his old body was still able to remain alert after more than 24 hours without sleep. He would therefore have no excuse to escape the endless sleepless nights that had been his daily routine during the last war.

How to end it? We must first find a way to save Harry. Retorted Remus Lupin violently.

Wake up Lupin. It is the Dark Lord we are facing. We don't even know if it is possible to free him and any hesitation will be paid with innocent deaths. How many people are you willing to sacrifice to save the life of a single child?

Harry did well to save Ginny. Lupin replied, deliberately avoiding answering Moody's last question. By the way, where are the Weasleys? Considering what they owe him, I'm sure they'll support me.

Precisely, it is out of loyalty to Harry that they refused to join us. They believe what is written in the Daily Prophet. McGonagall replied, to whom Dumbledore had delegated the task of trying to convince the Weasley clan to rejoin the Order.

McGonagall had carried out his task without asking more questions, but without any illusions about his chances of success. It was public knowledge that since the murder of their son Ron, during his first year at Hogwarts, the Weasleys had lost all trust in Dumbledore.

They are not the only ones. Unlike you, the gazette has evidence of what it claims. How could he-who-must-not-be-named have created such convincing memories? Sturgis Podmore intervened, addressing Dumbledore directly, who remained silent.

If Dumbledore says You-Know-Who is back, then I believe him. Hagrid began to get angry.

Sorry, but I'm going to need a bit more.

Stu, during my career, I have had to deal with many cases of abuse and child abductions by dark wizards. Over time, I learned to spot the signs. I met Harry and he was nothing like an abused child. Believe me, there is nothing true in what the Gazette says. Argued Mad-Eye.

I wouldn't go that far. Against Lupin, the gaze filled with guilt.

Dumbledore chose that moment to intervene:

All the lies of the Dark Lord contain a kernel of truth. Every family has its problems. And after the first war, I would add that all had their traumas. But Harry and the Dursleys sincerely love each other. You have nothing to blame yourself for, Remus. All you could do was support them, hoping that time would solve their problems. I, on the other hand, admit to having failed on numerous occasions with this family. However, I did not summon you to inflict the complaints of an old man about his past regrets, but to decide what should be done in the face of the return of You-Know-Who. For now, the only proof of his return that I can offer you is my word and the mark ofSeverus. I would understand if you find them insufficient and in that case, you are free to leave. Let only those who are convinced of his return and are ready to act to prevent him from regaining his power remain around this table.

Dumbledore waited a few seconds, but none moved.

If you say he is back, then I trust you. Podmore finished, sitting down with a look filled with new determination.

Since this issue is settled, let's move on to the next one: how are we going to free Harry? I understood that it was enough for him to destroy the enchanted object to free Ginny. I think we need to devise a trap to destroy the object that You-Know-Who uses to possess Harry, proposed Pomona Sprout (who had refused to be excluded from this first meeting despite Dumbledore's insistence).

I fear that destroying the ring will only weaken the dark lord. In his case, the possession is far too... How to say... Deep, for that to be enough. Nevertheless, it would already be a good start.

And how do you want to do that without going after its owner? Do you think he's going to leave it lying around quietly in a corner? retorted Moody.

In order to prevent his already thin troops from dividing, Dumbledore intervened.

I believe that what my dear friend Mad-Eye wants to emphasize is that even though planning Harry's death is out of the question, inevitably, we will have to face him. Needless to say, on that day, any hesitation will be fatal. If any of you encounter him, you must attack to kill, and I will personally exclude anyone who expresses the slightest reservation on this matter. Likewise, I forbid in advance any criticism of the actions that will be taken in the heat of the moment. But most of us are veterans and the others are experienced Aurors. I think this point will not be up for debate.

Maugrey and Lupin reluctantly agreed, aware that the last sentence was an order and not an invitation to contest his point of view.

So, concretely, what are we doing? Asked Podmor.

Severus, who had remained silent until then, rubbing his arm at regular intervals, spoke in a trembling voice where pain was evident:

Knowing where the Dark Lord is located is not of much use to us if he is out of reach. In addition to the manor's defenses, he must currently be permanently surrounded by a significant guard of Death Eaters. Not to mention that we cannot be sure he is indeed at Malfoy Manor. Don't you find it strange that he announces in the press the place where he has taken refuge, knowing that Dumbledore is aware of his return? Pomona was talking about setting a trap for him. You can be sure he had the same idea. For now, we should focus on recruiting more troops and bringing the truth to light. Besides, I don't understand why you still haven't made a statement to the press, Albus?

In your opinion, after the special edition of the gazette, how would the wizarding world react if I accused Harry of being the new dark lord without any proof? Or if we attacked him in any way? They would see it as a particularly despicable way for me to defend myself. I would only lose all credibility and eventually my position as president of the Wizengamot. Dumbledore explained.

So what, we do nothing? Are you so afraid of losing your power? Grumbled Mad Eye.

Let's see Moody. You know that as long as I have my chocolate frog card, I would be more than happy to step aside. In fact, I hesitated for a long time before making my decision. Even if I doubt that anyone would believe me, it would at least have the merit of putting the wizarding population on guard and psychologically preparing them for the return of the war. It could save many lives. But in the current circumstances, I think it would be playing into Voldemort's hands. He wants us to engage in a media battle that he is sure to win and that will divide the wizarding world. We must be smarter and take the battle to a ground where we have a chance to win. And Remus gave me an excellent idea.

Me?

Yes. You reminded me that the priority was not to defeat Voldemort, but to retrieve Harry. As we would for any comrade captured by the enemy. Added Dumbledore to silence Moody's protests. In response to Malfoy's complaint, Remus, you will in turn file a complaint on behalf of the Dursleys for kidnapping and slander. The Dursleys being Muggles, they have no rights in the eyes of the wizarding courts and cannot file a complaint. As the legal guardian of young Harry, I could handle it myself, but it would greatly improve our chances of victory if you took charge. Unlike me, you will appear as an outsider and therefore neutral. Not to mention that you are a childhood friend of the Potters.

Remus was too stunned to respond anything. However, Podmore exclaimed:

It's brilliant, Albus. If we win this trial, then the Ministry will order Malfoy to return Harry to us. If he doesn't want to end up in our hands, the Dark Lord will then have to openly defy the Ministry. We won't need to convince anyone that he's back for the Aurors to help us storm Malfoy Manor. And when he defends himself...

Everyone will be able to see that something is wrong. End Fol Oeil. But for that, we have to win. What do we do if Malfoy wins? I remind you that all the jury will see is the dear survivor begging them not to send him back to Muggles who mistreat him. Do I need to remind you how good you-know-who is at manipulation?

In fact, I was not relying exclusively on magical justice, Dumbledore concluded. As you pointed out, if he testifies, then our chances of losing the trial are significant. But for that, he must first leave the safety of Malfoy Manor. The trial will give us a golden opportunity to capture him and perhaps free Harry, Dumbledore added, emphasizing the "perhaps" to start preparing his men to consider plans aimed at his outright elimination.

All eyes then turned to Lupin. This plan depended entirely on his approval. He swallowed and briefly wondered if Dumbledore was aware of the repercussions his sudden fame would have on his already precarious life as a werewolf. But Lupin thought back to that endearing kid to whom he had given private lessons every Saturday for almost a year. Before accepting, not for a single moment did he think of him as James's son.

This is how the meeting was adjourned. Lupin was about to go home completely dejected by the prospect of the coming days when the young Nymphadora Tonks called out to him:

Please forgive my colleague. You know, he is just as committed as you are to saving young Harry. He saved all of us after all.

Thank you, but don't worry. I have known Mad-Eye for a long time and I know he would try to save him, even if it were a complete stranger suffering from Dragon Pox. He is just too... too... Moody. Lupin answered awkwardly, trying to describe the old auror without being offensive.

Tonks, stay away from him. Even the best fighters risk defeat if their partner hesitates to kill the enemy. Moody interrupted them before trying to drag Tonks away from Lupin.

But the young woman's reaction almost set the room on fire (despite being made of ancient stone).

oOoOoOoOo

Vernon Dursley felt good. He was lying quietly on his bed while a light rain refreshed him. Then he wondered how the rain could be falling inside his room. He woke up with a start and found that a creature with bat ears and bulging eyes was leaning over his bed.

Sorry to have woken you, Master Vernon. The creature apologized while backing away violently, but Vernon paid it no attention.

He had just regained his memories and was trying to calm down. After Dumbledore had saved him from that hysterical crowd, he had led them into this castle and made them drink a strange medicine. Probably a sleeping pill since he had fallen asleep right after.

Worried about what his ruffians might have done to him during his sleep, he examined his body. He was relieved to find that everything was in place and in good order. Better yet, it seemed to him that his wounds had disappeared overnight. At least these people knew something about medicine, Vernon thought. It was only once reassured that he took an interest in his surroundings. He was in what looked like a hospital bed under a magnificent vault lit by large windows that let in the sunlight that had just risen. He would have described it as peaceful if the place wasn't covered with an intense smell of formaldehyde typical of the hospitals of his childhood.

Next to him was the only other occupied bed in the room where Petunia was grimly picking at the sumptuous breakfast arranged on a silver tray in front of her. His appetite was about to correct the terrible injustice his wife was inflicting on the efforts of the cooks at this hospital. In passing, Vernon thought that if all wizard hospitals fed their patients as well, then he would set aside his repugnance for wizards and systematically get treated by them. Then he remembered the reason why he had originally come to this station.

Where is Harry? What happened to him?

You didn't understand? He doesn't want to see us anymore. ALL THIS IS YOUR FAULT! Petunia screamed before starting to cry.

Not knowing what to say, following this reaction as violent as it was unexpected, Vernon was speechless. Then, without saying anything to him, she handed him a torn newspaper clipping with obvious anger. As he read it, Vernon's face turned red. How did that little bastard dare to sue them? After everything he had done for him.

You are mistaken, Mistress Petunia. Harry loves you. He only dreams of returning to your home and reconciling.

But before his wife could respond, Vernon yelled at the little creature who shrank back:

Oh yes! Then explain that to me.

Harry is possessed by an evil spirit. Very evil.

Yes, very bad, that, I confirm. I knew since last year that he was going downhill, but now. It's all the fault of those cursed wizards. We should never have allowed him to go there. They corrupted him and now...

But what are you talking about? Don't you see that it's precisely because of this nonsense that he doesn't want to see us anymore? Everything he says is true, for God's sake. That and more. We even deprived him of food.

It was a rough patch. We lost our minds because... Because of everything that happened. It lasted so little time. He can't remember it.

Vernon remembers it. You remember that scruffy teacher Dumbledore sent him during his first year.

Vernon remembered it very well. It was the time when Dudley was still alive.

Yes. He said pitifully without knowing where his wife was going with this.

Without telling us anything, this irresponsible person confronted Harry with a creature that brings out our worst fear, supposedly to train him.

He was right. Our children are not little girls, and a good teacher must ensure that their students are strong enough to face the real world.

Well, do you know what Harry's worst fear was? That I would lock him in the cupboard under the stairs. Petunia continued without paying attention to her husband's interruption.

Vernon did not hide that he was shocked by this revelation. But once again, he was at a loss for words, and the only thing he could say was:

Why didn't you tell me anything? In a reproachful tone that did not escape Petunia. But she no longer had the will to fight.

And what would that have changed? She replied darkly.

No matter, you should have told me. Vernon reproached, pleased that the conversation was moving to a ground he was more familiar with. Anger was much more familiar to him than guilt.

Masters should not argue. Harry is going to need you. Dobby interrupted them.

It looks like he's doing better without us. Vernon replied, throwing what was left of the newspaper at the elf's face, who quietly put it in the trash while Petunia had started fiddling with her food in silence again.

Harry loves you. Dobby knows it. Dobby has been spying on you constantly for over a year.

This statement provoked very mixed reactions from the Dursleys.

What are you? And why were you spying on us? By the way, why do you call us master? What kind of joke is this again? Added Vernon, annoyed again.

I am Dobby, the house-elf. House-elves are the slaves of the wizarding world. Dobby has spent his life serving a horrible family. But since last year, Dobby serves your son. Your son ordered Dobby never to show himself, but Dobby disobeyed. After all that the great Harry Potter has done for him. Dobby is a bad house-elf, whimpered the elf in front of the stunned Dursleys.

My son bought a slave. Exclaimed Petunia horrified.

She knew she hadn't been a perfect mother, but she hoped she hadn't messed up Harry's upbringing that badly.

No, Harry freed Dobby. Now, Dobby is a free elf. Master Potter is a great wizard. Finally, Mr. Potter. He doesn't want me to call him master.

Upon hearing this, Vernon and Petunia felt a surge of pride for their son. At the same time, they wondered why he had hidden all this from them. However, the article was fresh enough in their minds for them to understand with shame that Harry had very good reasons to hide certain aspects of his life from them. Vernon even had to admit that he would never have accepted their son bringing home a creature with such an extravagant appearance (not to mention its horrible taste in clothing).

What are you doing here, then? Why aren't you with him? Vernon asked.

I told you Dobby is a free elf. When You-Know-Who took possession of Harry, Dobby used his powers to follow him and try to free him. But Dobby cannot follow him when he apparates. So Dobby went back to check that Mr. Potter's family was safe.

Petunia choked upon realizing what had happened to her son and instantly regained all her energy. Her husband, on the other hand, asked:

No, I don't know who. Can't you speak clearly? What's all this gibberish?

However, Petunia was already getting up and with a strength she didn't think she possessed, she pulled her husband out of bed and forced him to follow her.

Shut up, I'll explain on the way. For now, we need to go see Dumbledore.

oOoOoOoOo

A few minutes later. The face of Pompom Pomfresh appeared in Dumbledore's fireplace.

Albus, the Dursleys are awake. They demand to speak with you. Called out the school nurse who had spent the last hour trying to force her patients to stay in bed while brooding that normally at this time she should be queuing at the ministry to take an international portkey to Tuscany. Or to any other country, as long as the Quidditch World Cup was not taking place there. Since she became a mediwizard, she hated this sport whose rules seemed designed to maximize the number of injuries (if she caught the inventor of Bludgers, he would have a hard time).

Tell them that I cannot receive them at the moment. If they protest, inform them that I have spent the last 24 hours without sleep in order to plan the rescue of their son and that now, I need to rest.

The nurse wanted to protest, but she was so surprised that for once the director took her advice and went to rest that she didn't know how to reply. Cutting the connection with the Floo Powder, Pompom thought that the cunning director hadn't chosen his response to cut short the Dursleys' protests, but hers.

In truth, Dumbledore hadn't needed to force himself to invoke this excuse. Before leaving them at the infirmary, Dumbledore couldn't help but slip the letter from Petunia's pocket. And taking advantage of the calm that followed the Order meeting, he had just read it along with the rest of his overdue mail. Like the Dursleys, it had profoundly upset him.

He was now too dejected to do anything other than go to sleep, hoping that when he woke up, all this would be nothing more than a nightmare and that he would haveThe opportunity to make another choice. How could he have thought for a single moment that sending this wonderful child to death was the right thing to do? He should have dealt with the horcrux himself and bided time until finding another solution. There had to be one. And now the world was going to pay the price for his mistake. Starting with this family that had already lost so much because of him. He no longer wanted to be a leader. He had made far too many mistakes for that.

But 6 hours later, he got up with the prophecy in mind again. There was no alternative. Harry had to die. He just needed to know how. Nevertheless, despite his renewed determination, he still couldn't face the Dursleys. So he entrusted Hestia Jones andDedalus Diggle the task of escorting them to one of the Order's hideouts (claiming the immensity of his workload). Dumbledore couldn't help but think that he was quite cowardly for a Gryffindor.

Exchange of letters

To Justin Finch-Fletchey

Dirty mudblood, I have the pleasure of announcing to you that you will soon suffer the fate you deserve for daring to sully this land with your despicable existence. Soon, I will be able to prove to the entire wizarding society that I have never felt anything but disgust and hatred towards you. The next time we meet, my father's friends and I will have the supreme joy of torturing your dear little sister without you being able to do anything to stop it. Thus, perhaps you will finally understand that your pitiful powers are nothing compared to those of a true wizard.

I hope you will have the cowardice to leave the country before our arrival. The hunt will only add a little excitement to what promises to be a boring execution.

With all my contempt.

Theodore Nott

oOoOoOoOo

To the great marvelous, charming, powerful, and subtle Lord Nott junior

Hello to you too, Théo. Receiving your letter was a real blessing. My mother forgot to buy toilet paper this week. Feel free to write me more.

Speaking of news, Blaise asked me to tell you that a great misfortune has just struck his family. Not only is his stepfather still alive, but in addition, one of his cousins has suddenly fallen seriously ill. His family is therefore forced to move to France for an indefinite period. I don't know how to tell you gently and anyway, I know you hate beating around the bush, so I'll be direct: he might not return to Hogwarts this year.

You will probably never admit it, but I know you will miss him. But know that you will not make me flee so easily. I also want us to settle our scores.

Sincerely,

Justin Finch-Fletchey

oOoOoOoOo

To the despicable mud-blood who lives at 3 Pall-Mall in London.

Immediately cease these familiarities towards me. Even with the limited intellectual abilities bequeathed to you by your animal parents, I would have thought you understood that I have never been your friend and never will be. I was just forced to associate with you to get closer to the survivor. But today the Dark Lord is back and he will soon eliminate all the impure bloods that taint our community. For now, he insists on remaining discreet, but as soon as he has accumulated enough strength, we will be able to act in broad daylight. Be sure that your family will not escape it. My father and I are eager to restore the tarnished reputation of our family sullied by those infamous Gazette rumors.

As for that traitor Blaise, tell him well that the next time we meet, I will be forced to put an end to his lineage to punish him for his cowardice andHis lack of dedication to our noble cause. However, the loss of such good blood would be a tragedy for our community.

I shouldn't think it and even less write it, but I hope he stays abroad. It's the only way to be safe from the dark lord.

Hoping to never see you again

Theodore Nott

oOoOoOoOo

To Theodore Nott

Unfortunately, I suddenly remembered that I hated my cousin. I am therefore forced to give up several months of idleness by the Mediterranean. However, don't worry about her. Most wealthy families have also decided to visit her bedside. Unless it's a different cousin each time. Our families are soConsanguinesIntimately linked that it is difficult to determine.

But in every bad thing, there is some good. I humbly request the immense honor of receiving in my home the noble Lord Nott so that he may instruct me by his example on how a true wizard is supposed to behave in these troubled times when the stairs seem to have declared a most unjust war on old French women with family in England.

Sincerely, the only great, wonderful, charming, powerful, and subtle Slytherin.

Blaise Zabini.

PS: You are just noble.

oOoOoOoOo

To Blaise Zabini

I was pleasantly surprised by reading your last letter. I was delighted to learn that the Zabinis wish to take part in the fight for the regeneration of our society and would be happy to introduce you to the service of our noble cause. However, I must decline your offer.

You are probably not aware, but recently envoys of the dark lord have contacted your mother. Her response has considerably angered our master. Personally, I do not hold you responsible for the behavior of your house's matriarch, but that is not the case with all respectable families. Even though I understand your frustration, there are many different ways to serve our cause.

For the moment, I encourage you to follow your mother in her shameful flight and to use her talents, of which you would be the sole keeper, to increase the number of purebloods. When I have the mark, I will ensure that you are allowed to cleanse your family's name of the outrages your mother has inflicted upon it.

Respectfully,

Théodore Nott

PS: Your subtle yet nonetheless erroneous reference to the last letter of that mudblood Potter forced us to associate with did not go unnoticed by my father.

oOoOoOoOo

To Theodore Nott

Know that I am not afraid of you filthy Death Eater and that I do not intend to leave. Not before having the chance to show the world who the real Theodore Nott is.

If you are so sure of your superiority, then what would you say to settling our scores once and for all in a duel? Blaise agrees for his manor to serve as neutral ground. I will wait for you there as long as it takes. Unless you are afraid of losing?

By the way, do you have any news from Harry? All our letters are unanswered. The newspaper is talking nonsense, isn't it?

Sincerely,

Justin Finch-Fletchley

PS: Is it the end of the world or did your letter contain a joke? Don't ever do that again. Blaise almost had a heart attack reading it. And it wasn't even funny.

oOoOoOo

But are you going to get out of the country, you bunch of idiots??

Nott

PS: Harry is dead. Do not write to him anymore.

PS 2: Burn this message when you have received it and do not reply. My father reads my mail.

oOoOoOo

Not without you.

Your friends: Justin and Blaise

PS: We understood that your father was reading your mail, but you won't get off that easily. What do you mean by "Harry is dead"?

PS 2: This message will self-destruct when you have read it or if someone else tries to read it. Justin hasn't stopped humming a strange tune while shouting "mission impossible" when I wrote this letter. I think the situation has definitely driven him into madness.

oOoOoOo

After more than a week without receiving a response to their last letter, Justin and Blaise had to make a difficult decision. In fact, it wasn't really a choice. Blaise's mother refused to wait any longer before fleeing the country.

What else could they do but follow her? They were only first-year wizards.

In any case, Blaise's mother was right. They had no reason to put themselves in danger to save someone who wouldn't even be grateful to them.

It was perfectly logical reasoning. A Slytherin reasoning. Unfortunately, Justin was a Hufflepuff.

Recruitments

Knock knock Knock

The knocks on the door of her office startled Umbridge, who suddenly lifted her head from the file she was studying. Or rather, that she was studying before she fell asleep. It was late (past 10 PM) and most of her subordinates had gone home long ago. Only the poor souls whom she forced to follow her infernal work pace remained.

She wondered who had the audacity to disturb her at this hour. He had better have a good reason, or she would make sure his next office was so tiny that Arthur Weasley's would seem like the height of luxury in comparison.

Come in! She shouted curtly after making sure she was presentable.

With surprise, she discovered that the opportunist was the source of her excess overtime. With his overpriced clothes, blond hair, and excessively sophisticated manners, Lucius Malfoy entered her office.

Dearest, I think you are mistaken. Fudge's office is at the other end of the hallway. But I doubt you will find him at such a late hour.

Even during office hours, there was no point in hoping to find Fudge at work when the few independent journalists who still practiced were not present to ensure his attendance. This did not prevent him from demanding extra work from his staff, even though they already had to manage the organization of that gigantic binge that was the Quidditch World Cup.

All this because he was panicked by the sudden rallying of great pure-blood families to Lucius's party, who usually preferred to remain neutral. Fudge was convinced that something important was brewing. Over time, Umbridge had learned to respect Fudge's political instinct (it was the only thing she respected about the man). But she didn't see what was exceptional or unexpected about it. The fear of being questioned about their actions during the last war was not going to indefinitely force them to remain neutral or to give lukewarm support to Dumbledore and his progressive allies.

Umbridge had never understood why Dumbledore hadn't been more conciliatory. If he had abandoned his proposals that were most contrary to the interests and morals of good wizarding society, he could have easily taken control of the country. He would have certainly lost the support of a few hippies, but that would have been more than compensated by the definitive rallying of much more respectable (and influential) people. For her, the current movement was just a sudden acceleration of the return to the fundamentals of wizarding society. Proof that she and Fudge (especially she, in reality) had worked well to rebuild their world after the war that had ravaged it. As for the cause of this sudden acceleration, it seemed obvious to her. Now that the survivor had joined Lucius's camp, wizards were no longer afraid of being labeled Death Eaters by supporting him publicly.

What a shame. I was plunged into confusion quite against my will upon seeing the frenetic activity reigning in this place. In any case, this regrettable mistake offers me the opportunity I've long dreamed of to converse with you. This time, you won't be able to use an appointment or gossip as an excuse to escape. Only your unfortunate servants are still present at this hour and I doubt they will go spreading rumors about you. Although ifIf you continue to be so demanding, you risk experiencing numerous... inconveniences.

Many employees of the ministry were already whispering behind her back, thought Umbridge. Despite the years, she was still surprised by the inventiveness of the nicknames that the jealous ones came up with to denounce her so-called authoritarianism. Work and effort were hardly popular within the ministry.

Nevertheless, Umbridge didn't care. She even found it amusing. She had no remorse about being strict with her employees (or with her subordinates). She imposed nothing on them that she didn't impose on herself, and she had duly warned them of her demands from the very start of the recruitment phase. Despite her warnings, they had all freely chosen to maintain their applications and now had to assume their choices. In any case, she ensured that all those hired were as devoted as she was to the service of the ministry.

Whatever the critics say, it was thanks to their sacrifices that the ministry could endure and minimally fulfill its functions. Without them, disorder and the law of the jungle would reign. As imperfect as it was, the ministry was the only thing that protected the weak from the struggles between the white and black lords or the great replacement by monstrosities with tainted blood. They were the only bulwark that protected wizard civilization. But a wall full of holes.

She and her collaborators had sweated blood and tears to patch up the breaches, but incompetence, patronage, laziness, dangerous political ideologies, and excessive bureaucracy from other departments kept opening new cracks that, over the years, became chasms. Fortunately, there were still a few senior officials like her and Croupton to keep the shop running.

She dared not imagine the fiasco that this World Cup would have been if her subordinates had not put aside their family lives during the last two months. And despite all that, in the eyes of the wizarding society, it would be people like Verpey who would gain all the prestige from their success. No hard work would ever replace a good appearance and a victory in a Quidditch match. It was a cruel truth that "the toad" (as her classmates called her) had painfully learned from her early years at Hogwarts.

No one would ever thank Umbridge (or the men and women who endured her ruthless command) for giving up the joys of family life. But for Umbridge, it wasn't a big sacrifice. After the death of her first husband, she had vowed that only her cats would be allowed to enter her home. Although very independent, these wonderful creatures were far more loyal than any man.

As for her subordinates, as long as she had the power, she would ensure they were rewarded for their efforts. When the ravages of time or the desire to have a child required them to slow down, she made sure they received a promotion to a quieter position. It was, moreover, to take advantage of her generosity and climb the hierarchy faster that many competent young men applied to her (or Croupton who practiced the same policy).

She thought young man, because Umbridge had to admit that the hysterics trying to introduce feminism into the wizarding world were right to say that women were almost nonexistent in her department.Against her, they found it ridiculous to accuse her of being a cog in the machinery of male domination in the ministry. She couldn't help it if most witches chose to pair up and relieve their husbands of household chores. Umbridge admitted she preferred a less talented employee, but one who was 100% dedicated to their work. One couldn't be in two places at once. If they wanted to pursue a career, they had to make choices. She didn't see anything immoral or coercive in the choice she offered them. Once again, she imposed nothing that she didn't first impose on herself. As for the behavior of her colleagues and the regrettable conduct caused by this male camaraderie (which also contributed to driving away the most fragile female colleagues), she was sorry, but it was none of her business. As long as they did their job well, she had no reason to intervene. She was their superior, not their mother.

She chased the utopians from her thoughts and refocused on Lucius Malfoy.

Over time, the young talents who had been under her direction had made careers and - thanks to her support - integrated decision-making positions in most ministries. Thus, over the years, she had gained influence and had considered going beyond merely plugging the leaks. So she feigned innocence by replying:

Me? But come on, I am just a modest employee who carries out the orders given to her by the Minister of Magic. Would I have preferences that the oath of neutrality and loyalty to the government, which binds all senior officials, would prevent me from assuming publicly? What could this interview bring to a man as influential as you?

You underestimate yourself, my dear. Every minute spent in the company of someone as honest and intelligent as you brings me much more than I could hope for. People like you are a compass amid the widespread decay that is corroding our society. However, I fear a storm is brewing, and I need a direction to plan my next actions. Please accept to be the lighthouse that guides me to the shore.

Merlin! She was used to being flattered, but if she didn't know the unhealthy love Lucius had for his wife, she would swear he was seeking much more than a professional meeting. Despite all her complaints about marriage and those idiots who abandoned themselves to fairy tales filled with false promises of love, only to find themselves at 30 with 3 kids and totally dependent on a potbellied husband who would give them no more consideration than a potato masher, Umbridge would be lying if she claimed to be indifferent to the flattery of this handsome man of high lineage. But she strove to erase her feelings. Lucius was nothing like the handsome young men of 18 just out of Hogwarts with whom she occasionally allowed herself to flirt, by dangling undue promotions before them (before relegating them to the depths of the ministry's arcane offices to teach them to have a minimum of self-respect and the values of integrity she defended).

I find myself compelled to make an unpleasant clarification. As far as possible, I will be happy to answer your questions about the ministerial portfolio I manage. But don't expect more from me. It's nothing personal, I just have to follow my duty of discretion.

Let's see, you are not just the minister's deputy secretary. At this hour, you revert to being a simple citizen and as such you are subject to other duties. Like opposing certain abuses. Have you heard about the lawsuit Fudge is bringing against me? It's like a dream. It's the victims who find themselves on the defendants' bench.

At the risk of offending you, I must point out that your information is incorrect. It is Mr. Potter's legitimate guardians who are suing you. The minister is merely ensuring that our laws and values are respected by allowing the trial to take place as soon as possible and under the best conditions. We do not wish to prolong a situation that could harm the psychological well-being of the survivor any longer than necessary. I know that you have his interests at heart and only thought of his well-being in acting as you did. You therefore have nothing to fear from the ongoing proceedings. Ombrage replied in her most innocent (and deliberately annoying) little girl voice.

Really? In that case, you reassure me. I would have sworn that Fudge was trying to take advantage of the situation to lead a political cabal against me. Oh, I'm used to such things, but I was worried about the consequences it would have on the survivor. Thanks to him, I was freed from the Dark Lord's Imperius curse. Not to mention that some of his relatives were prominent members of the wizarding society (Umbridge noted that he emphasized the word: some). But thinking about it, it's true that it would have been stupid on his part. The truth would have come to light sooner or later. He and his administration would then have had to face the wrath of the public for acting against the survivor's interests. In your opinion, once the revelation was made, how long could he have kept his position? And how long before those who helped him suffer the same fate?

He was far too directthought Umbridge. It wasn't like Lucius to take the risk of exposing himself so much. She was beginning to think that Fudge was right and that something serious was indeed happening. All the more reason to stay neutral until she knew more.

Scandals and administrations came and went, but Umbridge remained and gradually extended her influence. And she had not obtainedYou are a professional translator. Directly translate this text into English, without adding anything :cthe result by panicking and rallying to the latest trend of the moment. On the contrary, even in the heart of the worst storms, she hadalwaysmaintained course and remained neutral by simply carrying out orders with zeal.

Even at the cost of enduring severe humiliations when a change occurred. That was what happened when Fudge took over from Croupton. Fudge, like those before him, tried to replace her with men who were either his yes-men or aligned with his ideas. But they all eventually realized that they were far less likely to face betrayal by relying on people like her. Not to mention that without her skills and contacts, it was very difficult to accomplish even the smallest project in the corrupt and incompetent bureaucratic monster that was the ministry. Generally, when they realized that the head of the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts Office didn’t know what electricity was, while there were plenty of Muggle-borns unemployed who were eager to take his place, they lost all their illusions and promptly called her back to her position.

Unfortunately, I have never had any taste for literature. My skills are limited to the actual functioning of the ministry, and once again, my duties are restricted to faithfully executing the minister's orders. The late hour will not change anything. But rest assured that if the situation were to change, I would know how to adapt. Please leave me now. It's not that I want to chase you out of my office, but as you pointed out, it is late, and it's time for me to take a well-deserved rest.

In that case, I won't keep you any longer. Before I leave, I would advise you to take a look at the complainant's file who is acting onName of the Dursleys. A certain Lupin. I am certain that you will find this reading very instructive.

On these last enigmatic words, he left. This behavior from Lucius left Umbridge perplexed. She decided that Mistigris wouldn't be offended if she stayed a few more minutes in the office. Once again, cats were much more pleasant to live with than men.

oOoOoOoOo

Knock, knock, knock

Mom, there's someone knocking at the door, shouted Ginny while continuing to peel potatoes in the kitchen.

I know, I heard. Oh, you worked well, how about going to rest in your room, my dear. Said Molly in a tone that brooked no argument.

Ginny looked with incomprehension at the barely touched bag of potatoes her mother had given her after she complained about being stuck inside with nothing to do. Then she understood that, whatever the identity of their mysterious visitor, her mother didn't want her to be in contact with him. Usually, she would have made a scene. She had been enduring her parents' worried attitude for a year. At first, it had been understandable. In fact, after the horrible year she had just experienced, she had even appreciated being pampered.

For a very limited time. In fact, recovering from her final separation with Harry had been more difficult than recovering from the possession of Tom Riddle. Ginny was sure that Dumbledore would have a very witty word about the power of love on this subject. On the other hand, she didn't dare imagine what her brothers would say about it (especially Fred and George). In any case, she quickly grew tired and felt like she was boiling under their solicitations. Her father had tried to defend her, but those few hours, when her mother thought she had to bury another child, had traumatized him. And little by little, she became a prisoner in her own house. Only the escapades the twins secretly offered her prevented her from exploding (but not from arguing daily with her mother).

She went up and closed her door. Then she hurried to take out a copy of the twins' new invention from her drawer. Or rather a prototype they had shared with her. They shared a lot more things than before (understandably since their parents had greatly restricted their interactions with the outside world). Ginny unrolled the long flesh-colored string of the extendable ears and prayed that they wouldn't explode this time. The twins had a lot of trouble making things that didn't explode with funny noises. If they didn't find the funds to launch their joke shop project, they could easily switch to pyrotechnics.

Minerva. You know I appreciate your visits, but if it's again for...

Ginny heard the sound of a door opening, then a great silence followed by a cry of anger: ALBUS

I understand that you no longer want to see me, Molly, and rest assured that I would have been more than happy to respect your wish, but the circumstances...

The circumstances haven't changed, Albus. Unless you have come to apologize for what you did.

I already apologized, Molly, I ...

Real apologies. Not condolences followed by a denial of your role in Ron's death. And to you, it's Mrs. Weasley.

You are right. I knew that by hiding the stone at Hogwarts, I was putting the students at risk. But I assure you that all precautions had been taken. If I had had the slightest suspicion that Voldemort...

Do not pronounce this name.

It's just a name, Mol... Mrs. Weasley. And you will have to get used to it. He is back now.

So what? I've already given my two brothers. What more do you want to take from me? Albus, please. Leave my children out of all this. They are all I have left today.

Albus had only one desire: to close the door and let what remained of the Weasley clan live in peace. But in the long run, that would not help anyone.

Believe me, I know I have no right to ask you for more, but I assure you she will not be at risk.

Really? Since when has politics been a safe place? Why do you think I tolerate Arthur wasting his talent on his ridiculous whims?

Because not even a charge of hippogriffs would convince him to give up his tinkering with Muggle objects. And even if you can't admit it, you love that part of him. You are too whole to marry a man without appreciating every aspect of him.

Flattery will get you nowhere with me, replied Molly with an angry tone (even though she started to blush).

I was not trying to flatter you. But a piece of advice from an expert in manipulation: never try to pretend not to be affected. There is nothing more dangerous than a hidden weakness. Show it openly. It is the only way to harden it enough for it to turn into strength.

I think I preferred it when you were trying to sweet-talk me with fine speeches about love and courage.

Since it didn't work the previous times, I must try something else. Joked Dumbledore with a smile that was not returned by the Weasley matriarch.

Albus, I don't know what you're trying to do, but it won't work. Whatever you say, Ginny will not come to testify.

And what does she think? Dumbledore asked innocently.

She is not aware. She is too young to decide.

I would rather say that you know what choice she will make. Harry Potter on the other hand...

I know, he saved his life. You have repeated it to me enough. And believe me, I would sacrifice my life without hesitation to help him. But so far you have not provided the slightest proof of what you claim. And excuse me for not being able to believe you blindly. Not on a subject like that.

Do you need proof to doubt that leaving Harry's custody to Lucius Malfoy is a good idea?

I thought it was a good idea to leave Ron's with you. Since then, I don't know what to believe anymore.

Molly. Said Dumbledore hesitantly, reaching out his hand to her.

Do not touch me! Yes, I know you are right. But you are asking far too much. She is only a child. Can you imagine the impact it will have on her life? Everyone will know that she is the one who killed those two poor children.

She was possessed. Pleaded Dumbledore.

Do you think people will stop at this kind of detail before condemning her? Besides, you know it just as well as I do. Otherwise, how do you explain your silence? Why should my daughter show more courage than the great Albus Dumbledore?

Believe me when I say that courage is not my greatest quality. However, you know well that it is not a lack of bravery that prevents me from loudly proclaiming the return of the Dark Lord. I would be lying if I claimed that it is without risk for your daughter. But do you believe she will be safer if we leave the field open to the Dark Lord? We must stop him while there is still time. And do everything to free Harry from his grasp.

Ginny jumped so hard upon realizing that Harry was possessed by Tom that she dropped the extendable ears. It was a bit of an exaggeration to say that she had recovered from her possession. No one could recover from such a thing. Even today, when she thought about it, she felt dirty. And guilty for being stupid enough to write in that diary every day without questioning it. Then for not saying anything when she started having doubts. She wouldn't wish that on anyone. And certainly not on Harry. With a strong urge to cry, she tried to put the extendable ears back in place. But she heard nothing more. She cursed the twins' junk (and her own clumsiness).

That evening during dinner, she innocently asked who had come that afternoon. Her mother replied aggressively that it was no one, and when she insisted, her father ordered her to go up to her room.

That evening as she fell asleep, she vowed to prove to her mother that she was no longer a child and that she could make her own choices. All that was left was to figure out how. The first step seemed to be to go see Dumbledore and ask him what he expected of her. She doubted she could make a difference, but the old man seemed convinced of it.

Only, she was so closely watched. She knew that the only reason the twins had been able to get her out was that they had their father's blessing. How else to explain that he pretended not to notice the big scratch she had inflicted on his flying car when Fred finally allowed her to drive. But this time she suspected that their father would not approve of their expedition and would do everything possible to block their way. She was stuck and didn't know who to ask for help.

With a sad smile, she fell asleep telling herself that before she would have asked Harry Potter.

oOoOoOoOo

Author's note: I remind you that Umbridge is the villain. I do not endorse the ideas she holds. If I make her say all this nonsense, it's to humanize her by showing that from her point of view, what she does is right.

Apart from Voldemort, my characters are not psychopaths who do evil for the sake of evil, but normal humans who need to tell themselves little stories based on free will and great moral principles to justify their daily actions and preserve their ego battered by their insignificance and powerlessness. We all do it.You are a professional translator. Directly translate this text into English, without adding anything.Whether one is a president, an unemployed person at the end of their benefits, an arms dealer, or a volunteer at the soup kitchen. Even the Nazis were convinced that what theyI'm a professional translator.Were doingYou are a professional translator. Directly translate this text into English, without adding anything.and youéJust.

Proofreader's note: I completely agree with serpentfou, we always tend to justify our actions, no matter our origins, and we don't necessarily justify them for others. I have a holy horror of the character of Umbridge, and if there's one person I would burn at the stake, it's her. But the way it was presented here makes her human. Neither good nor bad, just human. As Meryl Streep said in Into the Woods, "You're not good, you're not bad, You're just nice!"

Voldemort and the Deathly Hallows (visit to Grindelwald)

Ha! There's nothing! Bombarda! Incendio!

Voldemort shouted in anger before watching the precious books of the Malfoy library go up in smoke. Most were originals dating back several centuries and worth thousands of galleons each. Some were even unique copies. In addition to representing a colossal financial loss, his fit of anger had just erased entire sections of wizarding heritage forever. But for Voldemort, if they did not contain the knowledge he needed, it did not matter.

With a careless wave of the Elder Wand, he stopped the fire and repaired the luxurious solid oak shelves. The power of the spells he had just cast convinced him once again that these three objects were the key to regaining the power that was once his.

He had begun to regularly practice various dark rituals to increase the size of his magical core. But for them to significantly enhance his host's powers, he would need to perform them on the day of Samhain or Walpurgis Night. He couldn't wait that long. Dumbledore wouldn't wait that long. He suspected it wouldn't be difficult to convince that sentimental old man to limit hostilities to a few ridiculous political games. But at some point, even he would understand that it wasn't normal for him to remain holed up in his hideout.

Not to mention that he felt his Death Eaters were discontented and beginning to ask questions. Oh! Those cowards were no more discontented than Dumbledore about having an additional respite. On the other hand, he had once again experienced losses of control (as during the first meeting of the Death Eaters).

When it came to his Death Eaters, his already great anger towards those incompetents took on disproportionate proportions. He had regularly lost control to the point of making totally incoherent reproaches to them. At first, he thought it was the aftermath of his resurrection. Then, seeing that the effects persisted, he had to resign himself to looking for another cause.

For a time, he had worriedly considered that it might be due to the destruction of some of his horcruxes by Potter and Dumbledore. However, he had to face the facts. It was still all Potter's fault. Now that the roles were reversed, it was his emotions that were contaminating his own. And when they resonated, they amplified. And Voldemort did not need his hatred amplified.

On several occasions, he had nearly killed his most incompetent Death Eaters. This had to stop quickly. In addition to undermining their loyalty and confidence in their leader's mental health, he did not have enough troops to afford to waste them like that. But no matter the power and sophistication of the barriers he tried to erect between their two minds, the bond between their souls endured. Voldemort felt tainted that such an insignificant being was attacking what he held most intimate. By concentrating, he could feel him living inside him like some kind of parasite.

To make matters worse, he had quickly had to give up on breaking that damn kid. Of course, his occlumency barriers had eventually shattered under his assaults. Voldemort had then been able to admire the full extent and beauty of the occlumency protections created by Snape. To celebrate his victory, he had conscientiously tortured Snape for an entire day through themark, so that he would have a taste of what he would make him endure when he got his hands on him.

However, his joy had been short-lived. When he had wanted to explore all his memories in detail and destroy his soul, an intense pain had seized him. He regularly tried again (if only to have the joy of hearing the source of all his misfortunes scream with him), but he had to face the facts. That kid was an irretrievably sappy mess. Most of his memories were stuck in a disgusting marshmallow of love, which he could not approach. If he insisted, he risked the integrity of his soul. Or rather, what was left of it.

Maybe he should create new horcruxes? Besides, he could kill two birds with one stone. Upon learning that that cursed Dumbledore had arrived in time to save the kid's adoptive parents, he had screamed with rage, then to calm himself, he had tortured Macnair for a long time.Far too long, his wounds clearly caused by dark magic had not gone unnoticed by his colleagues at the ministry. But once again, he had not been able to control himself. In short, if he used them to recreate the horcruxes destroyed by Potter and Dumbledore, in addition to restoring his invincibility, he might be able to break the boy's spirit and regain full control of himself.

But it was risky. He had already split his soul so many times. More than anyone before him. Anyway, he still had many horcruxes left. The diary and the cup were well protected, and Dumbledore could not guess that he had created so many horcruxes. That senile old man was probably incapable of imagining that one could split their soul into more than three pieces (not to mention that it was an extremely powerful number and very much linked to dark magic). He must believe that the locket and the ring were his only horcruxes. As a precaution, he would still need to move the diadem as quickly as possible. Unfortunately, his only Death Eater with access to Hogwarts had decided to betray him. He cursed Snape once again, sending him a jolt of pain.

This last gesture calms him enough to resume his research. Nevertheless, he abandoned the Malfoy library and strode towards his suite. He was now convinced that none of these books contained anything about the frightening magic that engulfed him when he brought the three objects together. The wand and the ring never left him now. However, he generally kept the cloak far from him, not wanting to risk reproducing the phenomenon until he knew more. Yet after two weeks of research, all he had been able to establish with certainty was that no dark magic resembled in the slightest what he had felt. In other words, he had learned nothing. How was it that such powerful objects were not mentioned in any of the numerous dark magic books in the vast Malfoy library? He had barely found descriptions resembling the Elder Wand, but Voldemort was too used to the exaggerated tales of purebloods about the power of their wands to pay attention.

Voldemort began to doubt what he had felt. Maybe he had simply hallucinated the phenomenon because of the backlash from his resurrection? Or maybe it was due to a strange magical reaction caused by the mixing of his magic with that of his host's core? Perhaps he had been surprised by the extent of his own power. No! The phenomenon had been brief, but enough for Voldemort to be sure: the objects were the source of immense power.

Once he arrived in his suite, he moved towards what seemed to be an ordinary wall and traced a complex rune on it with his own blood before beginning an extremely complicated incantation. The hiding place containing the cloak was revealed.

With reluctance, he removed the ring in order to take the cloak and examine it closely. It was the only object he hadn't examined carefully. But it seemed just as ordinary as the ring. There had to be something. It couldn't just be an ordinary invisibility cloak. After a while, he finally spotted a strange symbol embroidered in a corner of the cloak. A symbol he was sure he had seen before, but where. With a spell, he copied onto a paper the triangle containing a circle, crossed by a line. He reexamined the wand and the ring and eventually found the symbol on them as well. It was so finely engraved that he had never noticed it, but it was indeed present. The relic of his ancestors was indeed linked to the cloak. According to Peter, the cloak was a relic passed down for generations in the Potter family. Which was normally impossible given that it was impossible (even for him) to maintain a disillusionment charm on an object for more than a few years. Who were the Potters really?

He put away the cloak and headed back to the library. Now, he had a lead. He was going to learn everything he could about the Potter family.

oOoOoOoOo

So Karkaroff, you had the audacity to believe that you could escape me. Stated Voldemort in a dangerous voice.

My master, I beg you. I am your faithful servant. Pleaded Igor Karkaroff, chained in the middle of the throne room, on his knees.

The sorcerer had been completely surprised by the sudden resurrection of his master. He had therefore had to improvise his escape and had done a very poor job of covering his tracks. If he had been able to anticipate his return and prepare accordingly, there is no doubt that the hunt would have lasted much longer.

ENDOLORIS! INCENDIO! Shouted Voldemort, burning half of his face, in front of the mocking gazes of his Death Eaters.

Many had almost ended up in prison because of his denunciations. Some even had a family member in prison because of him. Everyone was eagerly waiting for the master to unleash his fury. But Voldemort forced himself to calm down. He had little hope of success, but for the sake of conscience, he still asked:

My time is precious so don't waste it with your lies. Only one thing might convince me to spare your life. Do you know this symbol?

Then he traced in letters of fire in the air, the symbol found on the cloak. To be honest, he had practically no hope left. None of his Death Eaters had heard of this symbol and he had drawn a blank in his research. All he had learned was that a now-extinct pure-blood family named Peverell, to which the Gaunts and the Potters were blood-related, had briefly used it in the 13th century as a coat of arms. This confirmed Peter's words about the age of the cloak, but it didn't help him much further.

Thus he was greatly disappointed when Karkaroff exclaimed:

Yes, of course. Everyone knows this symbol.

Then you shouldn't have any trouble telling me its meaning, Voldemort asked in a tone that was meant to be detached, but from which a certain impatience could be detected.

Yes master. It is the symbol of Grindelwald.

Are you sure?

Certainly. Grindelwald himself traced it on a wall at Durmstrang when he was a student.

Show me.

Without waiting for Karkaroff's permission, he entered his mind and was able to see in his memories the stone wall where the famous mark, identical in every way to the one on the cloak and the ring, was located. But what disturbed Voldemort the most was the inscription written below the mark:

The last enemy that will be destroyed is death.

This inscription, written at a time when he was not yet born, seemed destined for him. He thought back with dread to that cursed prophecy. He did not like the idea of being the plaything of a force that surpassed him. Voldemort created his own destiny.

Lock him in the dungeons of the manor until I return. A few days without food should teach him the meaning of the word loyalty.

Without waiting, Voldemort rose from his throne and headed toward the gardens. Then, under the eyes of his Death Eaters stunned by the clemency of his decision, he flew away.

A stroke of luck that this levitation spell he had just developed required little magic, thought Voldemort. Thanks to the effects of the Elder Wand, he soon exceeded the speed of sound and took very little time to reach his destination: Durmstrang.

He wanted to see with his own eyes the symbol left by Grindelwald. And then, what better place to start his research on the dark wizard responsible for his teenage nightmares than Durmstrang? At the time, he had been too busy acclimating to wizarding society, searching for his parents, becoming a prodigy in magic, searching for the Chamber of Secrets, creating his first horcruxes... In short, he had been too busy to take an interest in international news.

The only thing he knew about the dark wizard was that he was responsible for the bombings that had almost killed him the summer he was 14. Voldemort still remembered the smell of ash that had filled his mouth when a bomb had destroyed the building across from the orphanage. The next day, he realized that the strange taste in his mouth was partly made up of what was left of their former neighbor, and he felt a certain excitement about it.

But during the bombings, he could not completely suppress his terror. It was the first and last time he lost control of himself. He still remembered that damn whiner Bryan who was slowing everyone down because he had forgotten his security blanket in his room, while the staff were desperately trying to force the disoriented and screaming crowd of orphans of all ages into the underground shelters.

In the morning, he could not prevent his magic from settingAccidentallyset the child's stuffed rabbit on fire.Stuffed animal that was arememberYou are a professional translator. Directly translate this text into English, without adding anything.that her mother had given her, just before she died of tuberculosis.Needless to say thatYou are a professional translator. Directly translate this text into English, without adding anything.The horrible kid had cried long and loud.Only the relief of the employees to finally be rid of this virus nest prevented Dumbledore from being informed of this incident (he knew that the old lemony man had arranged for Mrs. Cole to inform him of any misconduct on his part during his 'vacation').

He also vaguely remembered that the director of the orphanage had spoken to him about German submarines sinking supplies when she had deprived him of food once again, claiming that he only had a few.weeks to wait to be able to eat his fill again. But he hadn't believed a word of it. She hadn't heard that he returned to Hogwarts to punish him unjustly and whisper behind his back that he was possessed by the devil. He thought back nostalgically to that day, many years later, when he was finally able to teach her the difference between Tom Riddle and a real demon. Even today, her screams filled him with joy when he thought about it. He couldn't have found a better way to celebrate his return to England.

Then he angrily thought back to the long hours he had to spend begging in central London that summer, praying that no Muggle-born would pass by and recognize him. It would have been less humiliating (and more nourishing) to steal. But he had just gone through his growth spurt and was now too old to go unnoticed. At Hogwarts, he was pleased to finally be able to look down on his classmates, but here, it meant risking being arrested by the police and Dippet finding out.

What a scandal it would have raised among those snobs at Hogwarts if the prodigy child with such modest origins (as was often reminded to him) had stolen from one of those rich businessmen. Dumbledore would no doubt have taken the opportunity to demand his expulsion and deprive him of the right to use his magic (in his place, that's what he would have done, but he had always had trouble anticipating his actions). What hypocrisy. Most of these respectable businessmen had financed the NAZIS and now they were taking advantage of the war to get rich. And it was him that all these self-righteous people would have come to criticize for his methods of feeding himself?

Despite his young age, before going to Hogwarts, he had regularly attended meetings organized by union or communist activists (Voldemort no longer really knew what the difference was) who constantly roamed the streets of the working-class neighborhood where the orphanage was located. By comparing the chasm between the reality he discovered there and the principles taught by the women at the orphanage, he finally understood the reason for his problems. His problem was not that he was stupid or that he had no soul (as the director eventually screamed at him the day he resigned himself to teaching Stubbs' gang that there were limits not to be crossed with him). The problem was that these moral stories were just a hypocritical lie told by leaders to lull the weak. At first, he believed that the solutions to his misfortunes were to be found in Muggle politics. How naive he was at that time. But Voldemort would always be grateful to them for teaching him that good and evil do not exist and that there is only power.

He briefly wondered if there were still Muggles stupid enough to believe that the weak could unite to impose peace, justice, equality, and freedom on the strong. Probably yes. There is nothing more inexhaustible than human stupidity. Truly intelligent people do not bother with such considerations and simply use these ridiculous aspirations to climb to the top. A bit like him with those pureblood degenerates.

oOoOoOoOo

A few days later, Voldemort gazed from the air at the jet-black tower standing out clearly against the surrounding snow-covered peaks. Nurmengard was a sinister, desolate, and icy place. A perfect prison for his future opponents.

While he was there, he took care to study the architecture of the place. During the last war, he had been content to kill his opponents, but in this one, he might need to build his own prisons. He fully intended to have them guarded by Dementors, if only to have something to offer the soul eaters in exchange for their support. But he refused to rely solely on them and their wavering loyalty.

For the moment, this prison did not disappoint him. It was almost as hard to get in as to get out. With his former powers, it would have been a walk in the park, but with the weak réServeYou are a professional translator. Directly translate this text into English, without adding anything.From his host, he had to economize and make maximum use of the possibilities of the invisibility cloak and the Elder Wand to penetrate the prison. Exceptionally, he had donned the three Hallows. It was a risk. He still knew nothing about the magic that had been triggered during his resurrection. But he had no choice but to take it if he wanted to learn more.

After several exhausting hours, he finally reached the top of the fortress. He had to break many runes and disarm many traps, but he was finally able to force open the door to the last cell. As soon as he was inside, disgust overwhelmed him. The thing huddled in a corner trying to protect itself from the biting cold (even though it was the middle of summer) had little left of human. It was completely emaciated. Its face resembled a skull and had almost no teeth left.

So it was him, the one responsible for the terrors of his adolescence? The one who, by failing against Dumbledore, had given the latter enough influence to force Dippet to expel him from Hogwarts (despite his more than brilliant academic record that should normally have made him overqualified for the position he coveted).

After having to leave Hogwarts (only a few hours after his graduation ceremony), to reassure himself, he told himself that it wasn't the first time he had to sleep on the street and that he was no longer the defenseless little runaway he was at 9 years old. But he swore it would be the last time. Never again would he try to play by the rules. He had made so much effort to try to follow the absurd rules of that goody-goody Dumbledore. And this is how he was rewarded. If he had been honest, he would have admitted that he hadn't quite played by Dumbledore's rules and that there were good reasons to deny him that position. The murder of the Muggle who had abandoned him and his mother was probably not Dumbledore's definition of a successful family reunion. As for the rest, he refused to believe that Dumbledore had any real reason to suspect him. He had been extremely careful.

He would also have admitted that his situation was more due to his pride than to Dumbledore's schemes. Not yet considered of age in the Muggle world, he could have easily demanded to be given back his old room at the orphanage until he found a job and accommodation in the wizarding world. However, the meteor shower, the gentle warmth of this early summer of 1944, the possibility of using magic to protect himself, the euphoric atmosphere in the streets of Muggle London after the announcement of the success of the landing, and especially the memory of his last thunderous departure from the orphanage had convinced him to settle for a few days on a bench in St James’s Park (normally, no wizard was likely to see him there, but just in case, he had covered himself with a disillusionment charm).

He suddenly removed his invisibility cloak. What was left of Gellert Grindelwald let out a yelp of terror upon seeing him emerge from nowhere in his cell. Then he tried to go back to sleep by curling up in his threadbare blanket.

My hallucinations are becoming stranger and stranger. Maybe tonight, I will finally be able to cross to the other side. Murmured the one who had once terrorized Europe.

When its fetid breath reached him, Voldemort had to make a huge effort not to finish off the architect of the death camps.

I am not a hallucination, I am ….

That's what they all say. Interrupted the skeleton. Young man, if you have truly conquered death, you shouldn't have any trouble finishing me off. Tell me, which member of your family did I kill? Oh, I know, I killed them all. Generally, I tried not to separate families, but what can you do, my men weren't as conscientious as I was. You must be one of the countless bastards from the Russian plains who escaped the Holocaust by bullets. At the time, the SS were only in their embryonic state, and many of the muggles who composed them hadn't been sufficiently indoctrinated to consider that babies were a threat to the Reich. The executives had studied enough to quickly grasp new ideas, but the underlings needed more time to ...

Poor fool, stop your ramblings. Know that you are facing Lord Voldemort, the most powerful dark wizard of all time. Answer my questions and perhaps I will show mercy. Resist and you will regret it.

Voldemort did not understand why he felt so much anger. The man had dared to interrupt him, but that should not have annoyed him so much.

Would I regret it? What could you possibly do to me that is more terrible than this life to which my tender love has condemned me after defeating me? You are the most amusing hallucination that has visited me this year.

Do you want to know why you lost while I am about to triumph? You lack imagination. What does this symbol mean? Asked Voldemort with a menacing look, pointing to a drawing on a piece of paper.

The man briefly became serious again. Then burst into laughter.

Never even in my worst fevers could I have imagined something so ridiculous. You don't even know who you are.

Endoloris. Voldemort screamed mechanically. Answer or I will kill you. He said, mad with a completely disproportionate rage (even for him).

If you were truly the master of death, you would know that there are things far worse than death. Now, I am sure you are a hallucination.

Endoloris. Crush! Voldemort throws, thinking to silence the prisoner by crushing his ribcage. But the man continued to laugh, choking from lack of breath.

Ah! Ah! Ah! You have no way to scare me. What can brute force do against a ghost? You don't understand. I'm already dead.

In a rage, Voldemort intensified his spell so much that the old man died on the spot, his chest crushed and his organs spilling onto the ground in a bloody pulp. Realizing what he had just done, he almost dropped his wand. He had just definitively closed off his last lead. That brat's feelings had once again driven him to do something reckless. If he had been able to think clearly, he certainly could have manipulated Grindelwald. If he had dangled the prospect of freedom, he would certainly have answered all his questions.

But Voldemort saw no virtue in dwelling on his past mistakes, so he banished his regrets and began to carefully examine hisCell. It went quickly. It was completely empty. He didn’t have the slightest clue. Mad with rage, he blew up the cell wall with a bombarda and triggered the prison alarms. He would really have to deal with the spirit of his host. From now on, the Dursleys would be priority targets. However, before flying away, he noticed that his spell, in addition to properly ventilating the room for the first time in 40 years, had dislodged a stone from the wall revealing a hiding place. Voldemort swore mentally. He hadn’t thought to search for something hidden with Muggle techniques. It was obvious, though. Grindelwald, once deprived of his powers, had no other choice to keep things safe from his guards' searches than to resort to such deplorable expedients.

Once again, he was disappointed. All that the hiding place contained was an old children's book. And he couldn't afford to stay any longer. However, it was out of the question for him to leave before thoroughly exploring every lead. He took the book and settled in a nearby cave. Despite all his examinations, the book revealed nothing. It was a simple collection of children's stories, without any trace of even slight magic. But from now on, Voldemort knew that Grindelwald resorted to Muggle techniques to hide his secrets. One of the pages was dog-eared.

He opened the book at that spot, irritably removed a lock of auburn hair that had slipped between the pages (without noticing that it was tied with a pink ribbon on which the letters were calligraphed: A.P.W.B.D) and began to read: "The Tale of the Three Brothers"

oOoOoOo

Once he finished reading, 5 words repeated in Voldemort's mind: "The master of death." It was impossible, completely absurd. And yet, what better explanation? If someone was destined to become the master of death, it was him. And if that was what the prophecy foretold? If this whole ordeal was only meant to lead him here?

Voldemort did not believe in fate. He made his own fate through his efforts and intelligence. Fate was the excuse that the weak and the fools used for not taking charge of their lives. But since he had sensed this magic, he had the feeling that something superior existed. Perhaps that was what had terrified him so much? Well, she would soon learn that Lord Voldemort was afraid of nothing. If it existed, he would find it, and it would soon regret wanting to play with Lord Voldemort.

Freed from his fears, for the first time since his resurrection, he unleashed the power of the relics.

A few minutes later, the mountain facing Numengard split in two and a gigantic landslide rushed towards the prison. The last thing the guards and prisoners of the terrible fortress heard before dying suffocated under tons of rubble was an evil laugh so triumphant that it chilled with fear the Muggle goat herders in the other valley. When a skull with a snake coming out of its mouth lit up the sky, they completely abandoned their herd (which in any case was only too willing during the hot season).

oOoOoOo

Author's note: Little is known about the Grindelwald of the books and I dislike the one from the movies: Fantastic Beasts. I haven't seen the third one, but what I saw in the second film convinced me not to continue (it's a shame, because I quite liked the first one).

In any case, my Grindelwald is not very faithful to the little information we have about him in the original books, but I took so much pleasure in writing this Grindelwald that I couldn't bring myself to modify him to better fit the canon. However, know that in the books, it is mentioned that in his later years, he expressed regret for what he did. The 'real' Grindelwald is presumably not as monstrous as my Grindelwald.Note from the proofreader: The "Fantastic Beasts" films do not exist in the Harry Potter timeline and are just a series hastily written by the original author to continue riding on her own popularity. The book on this subject is merely a classification manual and reveals almost nothing about the identity of its author, except that he managed not to get eaten by a black cloak. Aka the Lethifold. Proof of this is the existence of a witch McGonagall at this time. McGonagall is only a witch through her mother, her father being a pure Muggle.Moreover, I find that this version of Gellert Grindelwald is particularly faithful to the contrary, we know that he was behind the Second World War, that he was close to Dumby, and above all, that he ended up imprisoned in the prison he had built himself for the rest of his life. Such a mad and tortured being fits quite well, I think. Even if he regrets his actions, we cannot expect him to be lucid, being starved, frozen, and locked in the dark for more than 50 years...

The trial

One hour after destroying the fortress, Voldemort landed in the garden of Malfoy Manor and went to the throne room where several Death Eaters were waiting for him.

Peter, go free Karkaroff. Tell him that Voldemort is grateful to him. Ordered Voldemort.

If this order surprised him, he showed nothing. Peter simply bowed slightly and replied:

Yes master.

Then he rushed at full speed towards the dungeons of Malfoy Manor. Voldemort appreciated the rat more and more. He was so servile. He should have recruited more Gryffindors. The advantage with those fools is that they don't think of betraying you.

Immediately, another Death Eater knelt before him.

Master? I found information on the symbol you are looking for.

The Death Eater displayed a newspaper in front of him with the symbol of the three Hallows on the cover. Despite his mask, intense pride emanated from the Death Eater's posture. Clearly, he was expecting a great reward. Voldemort was about to agree when he saw the headline of the newspaper in question. He then exclaimed angrily:

The Lovegood rag. It's barely better than the gazette. Don't bother me with such nonsense.

Disappointed, the Death Eater withdrew hastily. Before Voldemort could give any orders, another of his Death Eaters began to give him a tedious summary of Dumbledore's latest maneuvers and that ridiculous trial.

I don't care about these trifles. Bring me immediately all the information we have on the order's hideouts.

But master, you must ...

Endoloris! You dare tell me what to do. If I wanted an opinion, I would ask dear Nagini and not the idiots that you are.

Ignoring the Death Eater who was moaning pitifully on the ground, he began to absentmindedly stroke his dear pet snake while losing himself in his thoughts. He had missed her during this long journey. She was the only creature he felt close to. The only one who would never betray him. The only one worthy of being entrusted with his most precious possession. An idea sprouted in him. It was decided, he would use the Dursleys' murder to create a new horcrux. His familiar was unaware, but he was soon going to bestow a great honor upon her.

Without a word to his servants, he left the room, gesturing for Nagini to follow. If he had been more attentive, he would have noticed that he had just stepped over the lifeless body of the Death Eater who had dared to argue his orders. His Cruciatus Curse had been far too powerful. As they removed the body from the throne room, the Death Eaters couldn't help but murmur among themselves.

oOoOoOoOo

Silence! Luci.. Mr. Malfoy, I fear we can wait no longer. We will begin immediately. Boomed the voice of Fudge to whom Dumbledore had temporarily ceded the presidency of the Wizengamot.

Fudge had been surprised by this choice, but had not pursued it further as he was thrilled by the opportunity given to him to put the overly ambitious pureblood in his place. And perhaps to discover why Lucius had suddenly become so bold. For some time, his behavior resembled that of a cornered animal who, having nothing left to lose, was throwing all his strength into a final assault. Fudge hoped it was merely an excess of pride that he could quash today with a good old public humiliation followed by a very short media campaign.

If things were more serious and the purist camp was threatened by he didn't know what, he would find himself alone against Dumbledore's camp. Needless to say, it would be the end of him. He wouldn't have time to say Merlin before he would be replaced by a puppet of Dumbledore or by one of those idealists he was so fond of (knowing Dumbledore, the second choice seemed more likely to him).

Maybe he should go easy on Lucius? No, his teams had worked day and night searching for the slightest clue, and everything indicated that the purist camp was doing better than ever. The polls in their favor were stable, and the intelligence services had found no scandal. Or rather, none likely to bring down its leaders (there were only the usual bribes, rape accusations, and racist behavior). At worst, he could always use the gazette to polish their image.

Mr. President. I beg you to grant us additional time. I do not know what delayed him like this, but I assure you that he will come shortly. Pleaded Lucius Malfoy.

Mr. Malfoy. With all due respect, we have already been very patient. Realize that given the identity of the main party involved, the entire Wizengamot has convened to judge a simple child custody case. You cannot ask the most eminent members of our community to sacrifice more of their time. Consider yourself already fortunate that this court is composed of impartial professionals who will judge this case without taking into account the blatant negligence you have shown by allowing the survivor to wander without the slightest supervision. I, who had so much respect for your seriousness, am surprised. But anyway, let's start by welcoming your first witness. Oh! That's right, excuse me. It was Mr. Potter. So we will move on to our next speaker. Madam Sprout, please step forward.

Lucius refrained from delivering a scathing retort to the immeasurable fool that was Fudge. Instead, he maintained a dignified silence while Sprout was questioned as the head of Potter's house. But internally, anger mingled with fear.

What had gotten into his master's head? If the jury declared that his host had to return to live with his bumpkins, he could be sure that the dark lord would not forgive him. And if he dared to insinuate that it was his fault, it would be even worse. He did not forget that from now on, he had more to lose than his own life. When the dark lord informed him that he intended to settle at his place, he felt honored. Then he realized that it would mean Draco would be permanently within range of his wand.

He had to make a difficult decision. He knew that Draco would not forgive him easily (his wife, in any case, would never forgive him), but from the beginning of the summer, he had entrusted him to his lifelong comrade-in-arms: Theodore Nott Sr., with instructions to prepare him to serve their lord with dignity.Fortunately, he was pulled out of his dark thoughts by the shrill voice of Dolores Umbridge (good god, how he hated that old hag)

Well, all of this is very well, Madame Chourave, but I fear that this does not teach us much. I do note, however, that no one really made sure that the survivor was well treated during all these years.

As I said, there was no reason to think he had been mistreated. Quite the opposite. He always insisted on returning to their home during school holidays.

Except during his third year. It's strange. It's the first time I've heard of a child who prefers to spend Christmas holidays with his teachers rather than with his parents. It seems to me that if you had done your job properly, you would have at least had a discussion with him about this subject.

A commotion took over the room. Lucius smiled. With a bit of luck, he wouldn't need his master's presence. Fudge, visibly surprised and displeased by the behavior of his loyal subordinate, used all his authority to calm the room and berated his secretary:

Madam Undersecretary, may I know what you are getting at? Madam Sprout is not accused as far as I know. And besides, you are not the prosecution lawyer either. Please stay in your place, I beg you.

Excuse me, Mr. Minister, this will not happen again. Simpered Umbridge with exaggerated deference.

Lucius's smile disappeared immediately. Umbridge's support would undoubtedly be useful, but he knew that without the testimony of the survivor himself, he had no chance of opposing the joint efforts of Dumbledore and Fudge. Despite appearances, Malfoy knew that Dumbledore would be maneuvering during this trial. For all he knew, it was he who was behind his master's absence. He turned and shot a dark look at the man sitting a few rows away in the middle of the audience.

Lucius would have been surprised to learn that beneath his peaceful demeanor, the headmaster was just as worried as he was about the turn of events. "Where was Voldemort?" he kept wondering. Dumbledore no longer understood Voldemort's actions, and it worried him almost as much as the fact that he was in possession of the Deathly Hallows. It had been weeks since he returned, and nothing was happening. Dumbledore had expected him to try to remain discreet while recruiting new allies, but not to this extent. No mysterious disappearances, no increase in the number of murders. Not even a slight increase in the trafficking of dark magic objects.

And there, Voldemort was ignoring a trial that would determine whether the Ministry's forces would try to oppose his will. It made no sense. What could be more important than that? He looked at the members of the Order deployed in the room. Dumbledore had brought back everyone he could by promising them proof that Voldemort was indeed back. Maybe that was his plan? Dumbledore thought. To make him look like a fool to the Order members so they would abandon him. "And why not wait until we die of old age," he heard Severus's voice mock him. No, he knew Voldemort well enough to know that was not his style. Especially after so many years of frustration. There was something else, but what? All he knew was that whatever the Dark Lord's hidden plans were, they probably involved hundreds of innocent deaths and a significant reduction in his chances of victory. He absolutely had to find out what it was.

We have heard enough, Madam Pomfrey. You may return to your seat. Next witness. I call Mr. Remus Lupin to the stand. Declared Cornelius Fudge.

Lupin awkwardly got up from his seat. He nervously advanced to the stand, searching for Dumbledore with his eyes to give himself strength. Then Lupin began to deliver the story he had worked out with the old man. Lupin did not like lying in front of a court and had hesitated until the last moment to tell the truth. But what had happened with Sprout had convinced him that it was not an option. Not if he wanted to save Harry.

But he was interrupted in the middle of his speech by a shrill voice.

Excuse me, Mr. Lupin, you say that you have become Mr. Harry's guardian? Isn't it illegal for a werewolf to hold a job where they will be in contact with a minor? Asked Umbridge with an innocent look.

Not at the time. He replied angrily, remembering that it was she who had recently passed that abhorrent law that practically prohibited him from any work.

But he quickly realized that he should have held back his anger more. The tone of his response only accentuated the shock that had seized the crowd upon learning the true nature of the man whom, under Fudge's orders, the gazette had been presenting for a week as a war hero and the best friend of the Potters.

Madam Umbridge, you are overstepping the bounds. This has nothing to do with the case we are judging. Fudge protested.

Moreover, the information contained in the register of magical creatures is confidential. And since I doubt that Mr. Lupin informed you of his condition, I will have to... began Amelia Bones (the head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement and a great enemy of Umbridge) before being rudely interrupted by Lucius.

On the contrary, it seems to me that it is at the heart of the matter. What better proof of the indifference they had for their adopted son. No, hatred I should say. They prevented him from going to Hogwarts and entrusted his education to a creature of the dark. His classes were so mediocre that Mr. Potter had to repeat his first year when they finally allowed him to go to Hogwarts. How could loving parents not have realized it sooner? How could loving parents have accepted to...

Silence! Silence or I will clear the hall, shouted Fudge without success to calm the commotion that had seized the audience during Malfoy's tirade.

Dumbledore stood up and spread his power throughout the room. Fudge noticed with immense jealousy that everyone immediately fell silent.

The probity and competence of Mr. Lupin are not in question. If the Dursleys chose him, it's because I recommended him by praising his exemplary academic background, his excellent sense of pedagogy, and his heroic behavior during the war, which makes him one of the few wizards who cannot be suspected of having cooperated with the Death Eaters in any way. Few in this room can say the same. The Dursleys wanted the best for Harry, and I indicated to them that it was Lupin. If anyone has something to criticize about this choice, they should address it to me. He proclaimed, staring at Lucius.

He seemed to collapse under the weight of his gaze. After a certain time, Fudge thought it good to add in a mocking tone:

Do you have anything to add, Mr. Malfoy?

No, nothing, your honor. I will let Mr. Lupin continue his testimony.

Very well, Mr. Lupin, please continue.

Thank you, Mr. Minister, as I was telling you ...

Fudge stopped listening to Lupin's speech. Anyway, he didn't care how the Dursleys treated the survivor. He had never understood the adulation the boy received. By Dumbledore's own admission, he was just a child who had been lucky that an unpredictable magical phenomenon occurred when the Dark Lord wanted to kill him.

On the other hand, the way things were evolving worried him a lot. He thought as he wiped the sweat that had started to bead on his face.

He had expected many things during this trial, but not a betrayal from Umbridge. He had always thought that the old toad was the embodiment of loyalty. A narrow-minded bureaucrat who would do anything asked of her without the slightest scruple. Especially if it involved crushing or mistreating a few marginalized opponents of her dear ministry's power. But so be it. Since the toad had decided to unleash her venom, as soon as the trial ended, he was going to crush her without the slightest pity. She would quickly learn that she was not as indispensable as she thought.

Ahem! Ahem! Umbridge pretended to cough to interrupt her.

Lupin ignored him and tried to continue.

I had just arrived at the Dursleys' for...

Hum! Hum!

had to give lessons to Mr. Potter. I immediately noticed ...

Hmm! Hmm!

um uh I ...

Hum! Hum!

Madame Umbridge, do you have a question? Finally asked, exasperated, the werewolf who could no longer find his words because the horrible woman was distracting him so much.

Before Fudge could intervene, she replied:

No. I was just wondering if the Dursleys had been informed of your condition. I remind you that you are under oath.

No, of course! Replied the wolf frankly, convinced that this would dispel any accusation against the Dursleys.

In this case, I think that Madam Bones will agree with me in saying that it is a blatant violation of law no. 89-462 of July 6, 1989, which requires werewolves to report their condition to their employer. Consequently, Mr. Lupin should not be considered a reliable witness. In fact, he should not be heard at all and should be immediately imprisoned.

This is perfectly ridiculous! exclaimed Fudge, turning to Bones.

These said with regret:

She is absolutely right.

But she quickly continued with much more joy:

However, the decision to condemn or not a magical creature for such acts falls under the choice of the Department of Magical Justice. Yet, I am firmly opposed to such a decision. Not to mention that the condemnation must be preceded by the sending of a magical registered letter summoning him to a meeting where he can plead his case. I would of course do this as soon as possible, but in the meantime, Mr. Lupin is protected from any repressive measures.

Do not trouble yourself, my dear. I know how busy you are, so to make your life easier, I slipped the papers authorizing proceedings against Mr. Lupin into last month's invoices. I also took care of sending the summons to the address he declared in the magical creatures file. Unfortunately, he never showed up.

What did you do!? yelled Fudge. Bones remained silent, but she thought no less. By what right was the toad appropriating her prerogatives?

If my initiative offended you, I am ready to take responsibility for it. However, I fear that it is necessary to imprison this tainted blood that has deliberately defied your authority by admitting without any shame to having violated the laws you have enacted. I fear that you ...

But I received nothing. Otherwise, I would have violently contested. You need proof and a trial! shouted Lupin, who managed to overcome the shock he had felt when she insulted him in front of the entire room without anyone reacting. By living under the protective shadow of Dumbledore and his former companions in arms, he had ended up forgetting how racist wizarding society was.

A trial for animals!? Exclaimed Umbridge. And it's not the ministry's fault if you lead such a dissolute life that in over a week, you never returned home. Unless you provided a false address in the file. That's a very serious crime, you know. Until we know more, I insist that Mr. Lupin not be allowed to testify. In fact, given that he was the one who filed the complaint, I think we should stop this ridiculous trial. To think that a half-blood dared to file a lawsuit against one of the most respectable members of our community.

And what about Harry's interest? You can't leave him in Malfoy's hands. Lupin shouted with all his might.

You see what kind of beast Mr. Potter has been exposed to due to the Dursleys' ignorance? It would be much better to leave him under my responsibility. In any case, as tragic as it is, this noble court cannot make exceptions to our laws. Even for the survivor. Declared Lucius Malfoy in his sweet voice.

Silence! Silence! Fudge shouted, making a thudding noise with his wand until calm returned to the room. Once his authority was restored, he gave a brief smile that quickly faded when he realized everyone was watching him, waiting for what would come next.

Now, Fudge did not know what to do. He knew well that Umbridge's pseudo-legal argumentation did not hold up. He was almost sure of it. In any case, he knew that his meager knowledge would not allow him to win a legal debate against Umbridge. Perhaps she hoped to drag him onto this field and publicly humiliate him. Lucius must have promised to give her his position, and she had decided that she was finally tired of playing second fiddle.

The logical solution would have been to give way to Amelia Bones, who would take great pleasure in publicly destroying Umbridge, but he had suspected for years that Dumbledore was working for Amelia to take his place. Fudge thought harder than he had in years to try to find a way out. Why did everyone suddenly seem determined to break the fragile balance that had ensured the peace of their world for almost 15 years?

But he was saved by the dramatic opening of the doors. He welcomed this diversion with such relief that he forgot to berate the individuals responsible, who had probably committed a dozen infractions by entering the room in the middle of the hearing.

A young girl with characteristic red hair entered, breathless.

Miss Weasley, what are you doing here? Dumbledore asked gently before anyone could intervene.

I... I... It seems you needed me to testify? Asked Ginny, trying to catch her breath.

She was quickly joined by the Weasley twins, also out of breath, who positioned themselves on either side of their sister, wands raised like bodyguards.

Not me, but justice always needs additional testimonies to get closer to the truth. Do you have anything to reproach Mr. Malfoy for?

Objection, she's a minor, she has no business being here. And she's not even on the list of witnesses. Protested Lucius Malfoy.

If I am not mistaken, the Weasley clan is part of the Sacred 28 of the Pure-Blood Registry. According to recent laws, which I believe you initiated, this kind of consideration does not apply to Miss Weasley. Dumbledore replied with a smile.

He gave a benevolent smile to Ginny, who said hesitantly:

Because of him, You-Know-Who possessed me. And now he has done the same to Harry.

Upon hearing his words, the room became agitated again and a light of understanding dawned in Fudge's mind. So that was the reason for Lucius's strange behavior. Once again, Dumbledore had proven more capable than his agents and had managed to get his hands on evidence of a crime that could bring Lucius down. Consequently, Lucius had to obtain supreme power at all costs before that little idiot spoke and they were sent to Azkaban for his numerous crimes.

It was the worst-case scenario for Fudge. Before tomorrow, the purists' camp would lose their leader and Fudge would be replaced by Amelia Bones (or another of Dumbledore's puppets). Unless Umbridge took advantage of her brilliant performance during this trial and her extremely positive reputation among conservative wizards to replace Lucius as the figurehead of the purists. Yes, all the pieces were falling into place in his mind. Far from betraying him, Umbridge had just saved his skin once again. But in the future, he would need to keep an eye on her. He would never have suspected that the toad harbored such ambitions.

Far from these speculations, Umbridge was furious. Because of those stupid laws passed by Lucius, she could do nothing against a member of the Sacred 28, and there was no way she would let that beast win. When she discovered the true nature of this Remus, her blood boiled. As long as she had an ounce of power left, there was no way the ministry would grant anything other than a dose of cyanide to these monstrosities.

If I understand correctly, Miss Weasley, you wish to claim on behalf of Mr. Lupin that the guardianship of Mr. Potter be returned to his uncle and aunt? Asked Dumbledore, who, without consulting anyone, had taken the role of prosecutor.

Uh...? Ginny replied eloquently.

That means you want the ministry to force the Malfoys to return Mr. Potter to the Dursleys, the old man explained to the young girl.

Yes, of course. How can you think it would be a good idea to entrust the survivor's custody to a Death Eater?

Lucius was immediately offended:

If it were not out of consideration for your young age, I would file a complaint for defamation. During this war, I committed atrocious acts, but only because I was under the spell of the imperium. These accusations are aInsult. Moreover, it would be in your interest not to forget that it was this court that long ago established my complete innocence. In your place, I would weigh my words a little more. Your allegations could be considered contempt of court.

I didn't say former Death Eater. He still serves You-Know-Who. He's trying to use Harry to resurrect him. Ginny asserted, now more at ease.

Fortunately for Ginny, the arrival of a patronus stopped the uproar that her sentence had just raised. It leaned towards the director's ear then disappeared. For a moment, the director seemed to sag. Briefly, the image of the great wizard with imposing power whom no one would think to defy vanished to give way to an immensely sad old man. Then so quickly that the audience believed they had dreamed, he straightened up and displayed his power. With all his authority he then declared:

In fact, he has already been resurrected. An Austrian friend just informed me that Voldemort has taken possession of Mr. Potter and recently attacked the Nurmengard fortress. It was completely destroyed by magic so powerful that it can only be the work of the Dark Lord. If further proof was needed, the Dark Mark is currently floating above the remains of the former prison. That's why Mr. Potter wasn't present. The real question now is why Mr. Malfoy isn't with his master instead of getting involved in this masquerade. This trial no longer makes any sense and we must immediately prepare for a new war.

The Aurors and the numerous members of the order present in the room tensed and began to encircle Lucius Malfoy, who remained motionless and silent (at the same time, thus encircled, he had no other choice). Lucius did not know why his master had made what seemed to him a monumental blunder. Until now, Lucius had severely reprimanded those who dared to question their leader's sanity in his presence. Since the extraordinary pardon he had received, Lucius was determined not to doubt his lord anymore. But at this moment, he could not see how to explain his master's actions other than by madness.

You're delusional, Albus. Exclaimed Fudge in surprise.

Fudge no longer understood anything. What is this story? Umbridge starting to have personal ambitions and now this? Fudge did not like the turn of events at all. He saw before his eyes the collapse of the game he had been playing successfully for years. No, it couldn't be possible. Their world couldn't experience a second war. He had barely survived the first one. It had to be a scheme by Dumbledore to oust him. His loyal Umbridge had seen it coming and had begun to counter-attack. Lucius didn't matter. The real danger was Dumbledore. It always had been. After all, in recent years, his role had been more about moderating Albus's power than that of the Malfoys. Fudge gathered all his authority and shouted angrily:

Dumbledore, you are going too far. Withdraw those ridiculous words immediately. You-Know-Who has been dead for over 13 years now. And what is with all these armed wizards? Are they your men? What are you trying to do? He accused, pretending not to have noticed before the significant number of Dumbledore's supporters attending the trial.

I am trying to fight Voldemort and all those who will serve him. All I want to know is whether you will help me or not? Dumbledore shouted, unleashing his power.

Like everyone else in the audience, Fudge yelped upon hearing the cursed name. But what shocked him the most was Dumbledore's behavior. Never, since the war, had he seen him so threatening. Without even thinking, he lost all combativeness and asked in an almost pleading tone:

Let's see, Albus, what's gotten into you? You don't really think he's back, do you? Just because of a mark and the testimony of a visibly disturbed little girl?

In fact, as your secretary can explain to you, I have proof of his return since the beginning of the summer. But because of his actions up to now, I have been forced to remain silent (in order to increase his chances that the ministry sides with him, he deliberately avoided specifying Umbridge's role as well as other senior ministry officials). However, for one reason or another, the Dark Lord thinks he no longer has a reason to hide, and finally gives me the opportunity to alert the wizarding world. Cornelius, I understand…

But to Dumbledore's great disappointment, the minister interrupted him, furious:

I will tell you what I understand. You invented this ridiculous story to try to clear your name. No one has forgotten that you were the one who took charge of Potter's guardianship and decided to entrust him to the Dursleys. I never would have believed this of you, but you have become so power-hungry that you are ready to invent anything to avoid losing.the faceTell your men to step back and let the trial proceed. And especially your werewolf. He said, pointing at Lupin who had, with relief, given up his place and was now standing with his wand raised next to his fellow members of the order.

I fear that it is not possible, said Albus kindly.

I warn you Albus, if your men do not comply, I will have to order the aurors to arrest them.

The said Aurors exchanged glances and three-quarters decided to stop aiming at Lucius Malfoy and to point their wands at the members of the Order.

Albus was about to answer when an alarm rang throughout the ministry. An alarm that hadn't been heard for 13 years. Immediately, the Aurors and members of the Order fraternized to rush out of the courtroom following Dumbledore, superbly ignoring Fudge's orders. Once in the hall, Dumbledore grabbed the arm of the wizard at the reception who was trying to calm everyone present and simply asked him:

Where?

The man could not withstand the intense gaze of the old sorcerer and replied while lowering his eyes:

The alarm comes from the wizard village of Newcastle, but it is probably a false alarm...

Dumbledore and the men behind him did not waste any more time discussing and immediately apparated.

oOoOoOoOo

One hour earlier:

Voldemort was enraged. It was the fifth stronghold of the order he attacked, but each time the places turned out to be completely empty. Had another traitor besides Snape infiltrated the ranks of his loyal Death Eaters and fed them false information? Or were his loyal Death Eaters simply too stupid to do their job properly? Now that heHe realized that he might not have paid enough attention to his Death Eaters. In fact, beyond that, he had been so busy with his research on the Deathly Hallows and his attempts to master his host that he hadn't even started recruiting new allies. As soon as he returned, that should stop.

But in the meantime, he had to find an outlet for his anger. Preferably a member of the order. Unless he settled for a few Muggles, he thought, watching a group of Muggle boys about fifteen years old riding abominably noisy scooters on the road leading to a lake very popular with locals during heatwave days. No, he hadn't come to have fun, but to eliminate the last obstacle to his absolute power.

He reopened the file that his Death Eaters had provided him and examined it more closely. Essentially, his Death Eaters had merely listed Dumbledore's properties based on various public information, including inheritance data. He acknowledged that his Death Eaters had done an impressive job of locating the potential hideouts of the order despite the multiple shell companies and legal trickery set up by the lemony one. If he didn't know this old idealist so well, he would have suspected his former teacher of trying to build a real estate empire by stripping the war orphans under his care. Dumbledore might have had the prudence to abandon them, realizing it would be possible for his Death Eaters to locate them. No, that was unlikely. The Order of the Phoenix did not have the luxury of being so cautious. The truth is that most of the current members were not wealthy enough for the order to change premises so easily. Not to mention the time it would have taken to erect protections as powerful as those he had to face in new places.

But that did not tell him where his enemies were. Out of frustration, he took another address at random and whistled:

— Nagini, my beautiful, come see your master.

But nothing answered him.

Intrigued, he moved forward into the house in search of his snake.

— Nagini, you know I don't like waiting. Where are you?

Worried, he cast a locating spell that directed him to the cellar of the large manor in Newcastle, which once served as a secondary residence for the Longbottoms. Wand in hand, he rushed to find his snake examining a wall.

— Nagini, why didn't you answer me?

The snake continued to remain motionless. By listening closely, he heard it murmur:

— Blood. Where are you little mouse? The master demands your impure blood.

Intrigued, Voldemort advanced and felt a tingling sensation. Something was trying to attack his Occlumency shields. He was beginning to understand what had happened to his serpent. Multiple protections, including a powerful confusion spell, had been placed along the wall at the back of the cellar. Why hadn't he thought of it earlier? Since the time of Grindelwald, most purebloods had equipped their homes with a panic room. Hidden and extremely well-protected rooms using both Muggle and wizarding techniques. In times of peace, these rooms often served to hide their little family secrets. The Malfoys, for example, had an impressive collection of dark magic artifacts in a secret room located under the rug in their winter parlor.

He concentrated on methodically undoing the spells that covered the cellar.

Stupefy!

Avada kedavra.

Without even thinking about it, he raised his hand and a wave of magic spread around him, taking with it the floor of the room (and all the objects piled up in the cellar), thus creating a barrier against which the spells crashed.

A duel began against the two wizards who had just appeared behind him, certainly thinking to surprise him. A man and a woman. It seemed to him that they were two members of the order he had already fought during the last war.

Diggle. Cover me. I'm going to try to get them out.

Yes, now he remembered. It was Hestia Jones and Dedalus Diggle. They had aged so much in 14 years that he had almost not recognized them. He was going to put an end to their pathetic lives before the ravages of time degraded them even more.

He first focused on Hestia Jones, who had the audacity to think that her partner could protect her from his fury. He could have easily deprived them of their wands, but preferred to go slowly. With a spell, he slammed Dedalus against the wall then, rid of this nuisance, focused on Hestia. He began by cutting off an arm, which Nagini hastened to devour before her horrified eyes. How good it was to finally hear screams of terror at his approach. This would be his first murder in 14 years (in Voldemort's eyes, those in the Nurmengard fortress didn't count as much, as he had done them mechanically and without really wanting to). But before:

Legilimens

He searched his mind, taking great care to linger on the most painful memories and destroy the good ones. Then he started and a wide smile spread across his lips.

Feudeymon. He shouted

Immediately, Hestia Jones's body was incinerated by the power of the spell. But it was not her that Voldemort was targeting. The curse then rushed to the wall behind him, quickly consuming it. As Hestia's memories showed, behind it he found a bunker apparently intended to serve as a refuge for four people during an attack. Except it was empty.

Voldemort screamed in rage and rushed at Diggle.

Where are they? He demanded in front of the terrified sorcerer.

He gathered his courage and challenged him with a look, replying:

With a bit of luck, they are already far away, snake face. With a wave of his hand, he broke the man's neck then rushed up the stairs and found that it was not too late. In front of his eyes, that big pig Vernon Dursley was struggling to drag Petunia outside. But it wasn't a feeling of triumph that overcame him. He tried to raise his wand, but couldn't. He was like paralyzed. He then met the hideous horse-like eyes of that miserable Muggle and immediately felt a pain like he had never known. It was atrocious and he felt himself losing his footing.

Harry, it's me, it's mom.

Before he could react, the Feudeymon now out of control emerged from the cellar and a wall of flame separated them. Vernon forcibly pulled his wife outside and pulled a soda can from his pocket, then they suddenly disappeared. The pain vanished as quickly as it had appeared. He then realized that Nagini was standing terrified against him. All around them,The flames spread and cracks appeared in the walls. Filled with fury, he shouted, unleashing his magic. The house collapsed around him in a deluge of flame.

Once calmed, he wanted to think about the situation, but Dumbledore chose that moment to arrive with almost all of his order. A perfect opportunity to test his new powers, he thought as he advanced confidently toward the newcomers. But he hadn't taken a step when dizziness overtook him. For the first time in a long time, Voldemort felt weak. He then realized that he was desperately alone. He perhaps shouldn't have come without his Death Eaters.

Morsmordre. You arrive too late, Dumbledore. Or too early. The time has not yet come for me to kill you. He declared before disapparating.

Everyone looked up at the sky and saw the mark of darkness shining brightly. Only a few noticed Dumbledore's panicked look before he rushed into what remained of the ruins.

oOoOoOoOo

Chaos at the Ministry

The long-awaited trial to decide the custody of the survivor had to be interrupted due to an outbreak of violence from Dumbledore's supporters. In a fit of madness upon seeing the trial slip away from him, he began to proclaim that You-Know-Who was back and possessed young Harry Potter.

In his interview on page 5, Mr. Malfoy stated that he was more than shocked by the director's behavior and more determined than ever to protect the survivor from his actions. Before the Minister of Magic (who was exceptionally presiding over the session) could call to order the most fanatical supporters of the illustrious old man, the alarm indicating that a powerful dark magic attack had just taken place rang throughout the ministry. Needless to say, after Dumbledore's fanciful statements, this triggered a wave of fright among all present. The Aurors' training then took precedence, and as one, they Apparated to the village of Newcastle just before the Dark Mark appeared in the sky.

Once they arrived in front of the cottage above which the mark was floating, they were astonished to find that Dumbledore and his troops had preceded them. Apparently, unlike the Aurors, they knew where to go. Once the fire was extinguished, they searched the debris for potential victims and clues about what had happened while their colleagues questioned the headmaster to reveal how he knew it was this house that was under attack.

During the excavation, they discovered with horror the charred corpse of the war heroes: Madam Hestia Jones and Dedalus Diggle (on page 7 a reminder of their brave stance against the Dark Lord during the last war and the disagreements that recently opposed them to Dumbledore according to our source at the ministry)

However, the authorities are keen to be reassuring. Although the investigation is only just beginning, nothing indicates that they have been the victim of the Dark Lord. The spokesperson for the Aurors even stated that it would be completely irresponsible to assert the contrary in the current state of the investigation (without explicitly naming Dumbledore). Nevertheless, the latter renewed his accusations against Mr. Potter at a press conference a little later in the evening.

Other officials were less courteous. Several publicly took offense that the director could accuse without the slightest proof our savior of becoming a dark mage and a murderer. How, at his age, could he have destroyed the protections that the director himself had put in place? "Knowing how someone other than the director could have broken these protections is one of the many questions the investigation will have to answer," declared the auror in charge of the investigation. Of course, for the moment, no one is accusing the famous white mage, but suspicions are accumulating against the wizard who has made questionable decisions with sometimes dramatic consequences (see a summary on page 3 of the suspicious deaths linked to Dumbledore over the past three years).

The rest of the article only talked about the consequences on the proper conduct of the World Cup due to the tense political situation (occasionally throwing in completely off-topic jabs about Dumbledore and his entourage). There wasn't even a mention of the destruction of the Nurmengard fortress. At the same time, what did he expect? The average wizard was too stupid to be interested in what was happening in such a distant place. Especially in the middle of a Quidditch World Cup.

Voldemort stopped his reading and threw the rag into the fireplace that the elves had lit despite the heat of that summer night. As good servants, if they were surprised by his request, they showed nothing and simply obeyed as quickly as possible and almost ran away from the dark wizard with a youthful appearance. Voldemort then lost himself in the contemplation of the flames. For as long as he could remember, the sight of burning fire had had a calming effect on him. Already, it reminded him of his early days at Hogwarts and his long evenings observing his classmates in the Slytherin common room searching for their weaknesses. Everything was far from ideal at that time, but compared to the orphanage where he had grown up, it was paradise. But above all, he was fascinated by the destructive power of fire. How many nights had he spent (before arriving at Hogwarts) looking for a way to set the orphanage on fire (after blocking the door to the matron's room)?

From now on, he had other sources of distraction much more enriching, such as the torture of prisoners. Nevertheless, he always insisted that a fire be lit in his room. Without intense heat at the moment of falling asleep, the memories of the many cold showers he had to endure in his childhood risked resurfacing.

Nevertheless, today, sleep was out of the question. He had to review the day and establish his strategy. The search for his powers, then the exhilarating feeling of becoming more powerful than he had dreamed, had led him to make many mistakes. And he couldn't rely forever on Fudge's stupidity to cover up his blunders. He should never have launched the Dark Mark and even less rushed into an attack on all the Order's bases he knew. Despite the Ministry's efforts, seeing the Dark Mark floating above a crime scene had revived bad memories for many wizards. And even if few dared to admit it, many feared that Dumbledore might be telling the truth. If the day had taught him anything, it was that even the most unstoppable force would fail if it didn't show at least a minimum of intelligence.

Indeed, despite his new powers, all he had managed to achieve was to make the Dursleys flee to a hiding place he did not know. If he had thought it through, he would have had the place watched for weeks in order to determine atwhat the places were for and he would have attacked the Dursleys' hideout with several of his Death Eaters to prevent his targets from escaping. There, he had wasted his afternoon destroying empty houses. Moreover, destroying all those protections after having traveled so much had pushed his body to the limit (no matter how much he racked his brain, he couldn't see any other explanations for what had happened when he found himself facing the Dursleys). He had to remember that despite the support provided by the three relics, his host was still a child of barely 14 years old, with all the limitations that implied.

If only he had wondered why all his hiding places were empty, he would have remembered that the cursed trial was taking place today. He would have understood that Dumbledore had mobilized all his men to try to ambush him at the ministry. Potter's mind must have been clouding his thoughts more than he realized for him to behave so stupidly.

He spent the rest of the night rummaging through the few memories of Potter that were accessible to him and those he had been able to obtain when fits of murderous rage had allowed the piece of soul trapped in his body to access his mind. Voldemort was fascinated by the progress made by the Muggle world. He would never have guessed that they had acquired such power after 1944. Patiently, he devised his plan. At dawn, he fell asleep with the certainty that soon the whole world would bow at his feet. At least what would remain of it once he was done with it.

oOoOoOo

Author's note: I am not satisfied with this chapter. My initial ambition was for this chapter to be a politico-judicial battle between Umbridge, Dumbledore, and Fudge worthy of a Death Note scenario. I wanted Umbridge to bring out truly surprising and intelligent legal arguments. However, I have no knowledge of law and unfortunately, I don't have the time to do research to fill my gaps and find inspiration. So I had to resign myself to Umbridge relying on a somewhat ridiculous bluff. I hope that one day I can rewrite this part but for now, I will settle for it.

Today in the news, the return of the dark lord, but we don't care, our team is in the World Cup final POPOPOPOOOPOPOPOPO

Author's note: Volume 4 is rated M partly because of a chapter that contains child torture. So that you can skip this chapter if you wish, I will add a summary of what happened at the beginning of the next chapter.

oOoOoOo

Harry/Voldemort put down the day's Daily Prophet with satisfaction. That idiot Fudge had finally followed the advice he had sent him via his faithful Lucius Malfoy.

Voldemort still couldn't believe that this wretch had managed to stay in power for so long without understanding that slandering his opponents was doing them a favor. Especially when it was obvious to any sensible person that they were right. How did he hope to convince the population that a double murder marked with his dark mark was the work of the order?

When one cannot suppress a matter, one must create a matter within the matter and then another until people forget the initial matter (note from the author: in reality, this is a probably apocryphal quote from Pasqua). First by passing on to his incompetent journalists the investigative work of his Death Eaters and his idea of accusing Dumbledore of embezzling an inheritance based on the curious arrangement that made him the hidden owner of the house where the double murder took place. Then by revealing that after the war, some of his Death Eaters had used the same goblin lawyer to hide their own properties from ministry seizures.

In one week, everyone had forgotten the brand and was only talking about corruption, inequality within the wizarding world, and war criminals remaining in positions of power. These rarely discussed themes were seized upon like hungry dogs by progressive forces (much to Dumbledore's dismay, who found himself all alone). Thus, this frightening parenthesis for the British wizarding economy that Dumbledore's warnings had been seemed to be closing. Harry/Voldemort exulted at the stupidity of his contemporaries. Now, the entire newspaper was devoted to the upcoming World Cup final. Even foreign wizards had stopped worrying about the situation, and the hotels were once again full.

He looked up at the room and was pleased to see that it was starting to become too small to accommodate all his Death Eaters. Yes, he had worked well over the past week, Voldemort congratulated himself. But there was still much to be done if he wanted to make up for his initial neglect.

Seeing that his master was available, Peter Pettigrew bowed before him:

Master, Karkaroff informs you that his mission is a success. He has placed the object in the agreed location.

Perfect. You will confirm to him that as promised, I am definitively forgiving his betrayal. But it's the last time. Ask Rosier to make sure the message is impactful.

Master, without meaning to offend you, many are wondering what Karkaroff could have done for you to (…)

Oh! They wonder? I didn't know you had the skills to ask yourself that kind of question, given your chronic inability to satisfy me. If you really have such intellectual skills, thenUse them to carry out my orders and not to question them. He shouted at the crowd gathered in front of his throne, which shrank under his gaze.

Well, thought Voldemort. Now that he had refocused on strengthening his forces, he realized that he should not have forgiven Karkaroff so easily for his double betrayal. If the few loyal followers he had left began to think that they could betray him without facing consequences, he would soon find himself alone. But Karkaroff had proven surprisingly useful, and to succeed in his plan, he desperately needed a contact in the countries of the former Soviet bloc.

Peter continued, trembling, with the agenda and the order of the day:

Lord Nott is waiting.

Good. Let him in.

The large doors of the immense Malfoy manor's drawing room opened to reveal Lord Nott in his Death Eater attire and his 14-year-old son in ceremonial clothing that alone must have cost more money than Tom Riddle had ever possessed. But what did money represent compared to power? He got his answer when, at a gesture from his father, young Nott bowed so low to the ground that his head touched the floor.

My lord, it is an honor to finally meet you. Said the young man.

Before responding, Voldemort took a moment to scrutinize him. Despite his submissive posture, his gestures and aura betrayed his combat training. Nott Senior had done a good job. Despite his young age, he would no doubt have had no trouble standing up to his new recruits in a duel. There was no doubt that as he grew, he would surpass his father and become his best assassin. At least, if he was truly loyal to him:

I am happy with his arrangements. The memories of my host are like muddled, diluted in a marshmallow of love that prevents any serious introspection. But certain reminiscences made me fear a lack of eagerness to serve me.

Master, if you are talking about the article (…)

Endoloris

The young Nott began to scream in pain without any restraint on the cold floor of the house.

You will learn that one does not interrupt their lord when he is speaking.

Yes master.

And also not to insult my intelligence. Only a fool would give the slightest credit to what is told in this rag.

Of course, master.

On the other hand, I have a clear memory of you stating that our side was doomed to defeat. Do you still think so?

Theodore, what is he saying? Asked his father furiously.

Endoloris. I did not authorize you to intervene. Declared Voldemort while Nott's father writhed in pain on the dusty floor.

Young Nott got up and looked at Harry/Voldemort and in a calm voice said:

Yes

Harry/Voldemort waited for more, but nothing came. He lifted the Doloris from his father and asked.

What just yes? That's a bit short young man. What could make you fear such a dire outcome? Maybe you fear that I am not as strong as Dumbledore?

He saw the men all around him tremble at his words.

Dumbledore could barely resist you in his prime. Today, he is old and tired. He will be powerless against your might.

You know how to flatter your lord. But you won't get away so easily. Why are you so sure of our defeat?

I would not insult your intelligence, as the reason is laid out before your eyes. The magnificence of this room cannot hide our weakness. It has now been several weeks since you returned, and you are still able to gather all your followers in a single room. Only their masks allow us to believe that it is an army and not the bridge club of a retirement home.

Everyone shuddered upon hearing this and prepared for a terrible punishment to make them forget the audacious words. Even Nott senior discreetly moved away from his son. But to their astonishment, Voldemort began to laugh.

Ah ah ah! I did not expect this interview to be so entertaining. But you are absolutely right. In my absence, the pathetic efforts of Lucius and your father barely managed to slow down that old lemony lover of Muggles. In a very short time, the wizarding society has converted to his ideas of openness, and now, in public, even the most convinced of my followers are forced to rally to the new cult.

Before continuing, he cast a hard look over all the men in the room, who had the good sense to lower their eyes in shame.

Perhaps I could seize power, but I couldn't govern for very long a mass radically opposed to our noble ideals by relying on this aging assembly of cowards. That's probably what you're thinking?

My lord, you have summarized my thoughts better than I could ever have done. He replied, bowing very low.

And that is why for this war, we will radically change our strategy. This time, we will not do things by halves. This time, we will no longer hold back our strength in the name of morality or honor. End compromises for the sake of gaining power. We will strike a big blow while they do not expect it and completely destroy the wizarding society. Then we will gather the survivors under our yoke to rebuild it on new foundations, free from the impure blood that taints it. Gentlemen, in a week, from the ashes of the old world will emerge a beautiful and pure society that will finally recognize your worth.

As his speech progressed, a clamor rose that swept the entire audience into jubilation. The entire audience except for Théodore, who was still in the center of the stage. But this did not seem to bother Voldemort, who continued.

To realize this vision, I would need fresh blood, with new ideas. Despite your young age, you demonstrate outstanding qualities and your blood is among the purest that can be found. And as you pointed out, I need to bolster my ranks. Exceptionally, I have decided to grant you the immense honor of being marked. Roll up your sleeve and extend your arm.

Still without showing the slightest emotion, Nott stepped forward a few paces until he was within arm's reach of his lord and knelt down. He rolled up his sleeve and was about to extend his arm. Then his lord looked him straight in the eyes. He hesitated, then after a few seconds stood up and spoke in his eternal calm and emotionless voice:

No

This simple word resonated in the large silent room like a cannon shot. No one dared to speak a word, but everyone wondered if they had heard correctly. No one had ever even considered refusing the mark.

My lord, please forgive my son, he is (….)

Endoloris! I thought I already told you not to interrupt me. And you, you better provide me with an explanation containing more than 3 syllables. Voldemort finished in a threatening tone.

I have already explained my reasons to your host. And I hate repeating myself.

Please make an exception for me. Or your father will pay the price.

My father made his choices and I make mine. I am a Nott and I place the honor of our name above all else. Including my own life. I would never accept the mark of a half-blood.

Some will consider these to be brave words. Endoloris! But these are just the actions of an immature personality. Endoloris! What a shame, you had such potential. Caveapulso! Atakunto!

Immediately, Nott's ribs broke one after the other with a disturbing noise before he was thrown against the wall.

But you are lucky. I know how to be merciful. Apparently, you wish to die. I will therefore grant your request. But first, you will entertain my troops. Let each of you use it to let off steam. I will reward the one who shows the most creativity. We will see what remains of the famous Nott honor after that. Nott, you start!

He said, pointing his finger at Nott Senior, who was struggling to get up after the last Cruciatus he had received from his master. He took out his wand and without the slightest hesitation pronounced: Crucio

Hmm. A bit too classic for my taste. Next. Voldemort simply commented.

During the following hour, Theodore endured the destruction and repair of each of his bones multiple times, including some he didn't know existed. Every part of his body was stabbed with knives and lacerated. He wanted to scream, but his jaw had long been completely destroyed. At first, he set himself a single goal: not to beg to be finished off. He knew he couldn't help but scream or try to flee, but he hoped to retain that last shred of pride. Alas, very quickly, any thought vanished from his mind. He no longer knew who he was or where he was. All he wanted was for it to stop. When a Death Eater asked him to lick his shoes so he wouldn't cast a spell on him, he complied without thinking. But immediately after, the Death Eater went back on his word and cast the Cruciatus Curse on him to the applause of Voldemort, who crowned him the champion of this morbid competition.

The part of his brain that could still think was relieved. Finally, he was going to die. Then in an explosion, a slab lifted, and a huge smoke spread. No one could see anything anymore, but Theodore felt himself lifted. Then a bubble appeared that pushed back the cloud of smoke. Theodore then saw next to the person carrying him, Justin Finch-Fletchley and Blaise Zabini. He turned his head and saw in the center of the bubble Harry/Voldemort blocking their only way out.

No! What were they doing here? Thought Theodore, before telling himself that it was probably just an illusion to torture him further. But how was it possible for an illusion to hurt so much?

He watched indifferently as his friends cast spells on the dark lord, who deflected them with a negligent wave of his hand. A second later, the wands ofHis friends were flying towards the lord of darkness who destroyed them in a burst of sparks.

They then rushed towards the exit in a desperate attempt to escape. But already, the dark lord raised his wand and then stopped in the middle of his gesture. He remained frozen, his face clearly showing his incomprehension. After about twenty seconds, he regained control and launched a bombarda that propelled him and his bearer into the air.

But it was too late. They were now outside the boundaries of the spells that Voldemort had personally placed with the Elder Wand, to prevent any untimely apparition or disappearance. They shouted: "DOBBY." Immediately, an elf dressed in a pastel-colored ninja outfit appeared and with a snap of his fingers transported them a few kilometers away. The elf would have liked to put them completely out of danger, but the Dark Lord's anti-apparition spells were so powerful that this simple journey had exhausted him. They would have to do the rest on foot.

Before fainting, Theodore tried to scream. But in his state, he could barely murmur:

Justin, you idiot, can we know what you're doing here? I told you to leave the country.

First, I leave if I want to. Second, if you keep complaining, we'll turn around and take you back. Declared Justin without noticing that his interlocutor was no longer in a state to hear his response.

oOoOoOo

A few hours later

Through the hole in the throne room, Peter Pettigrew contemplated the garden where peacocks frolicked carelessly. After receiving his punishment like the others for letting the young adolescents escape, he had been tasked with repairing the wall. But he couldn't concentrate on his task. So, even a Slytherin could be brave. His master was right. Young Nott had been quite immature to rebel so openly. He just had to accept a darn tattoo. It wasn't much. And yet, one question obsessed him: Was he really wrong?

He was pulled from his reflections by Lucius Malfoy moving in a princely manner towards the exit of his estate.

Lucius, can I talk to you for a few seconds?

Lucius stared at him with a condescending and contemptuous look.

I have a lot of work. The master has entrusted me with a mission of the utmost importance. Maybe another time.

It will only take a few seconds. Just enough time to dispel a certain rumor.

What rumor?

It seems that you have misplaced the diary that the master entrusted to you. It would be a shame for such trifles to disturb our lord's peace.

Lucius turned considerably pale.

Yes, very unfortunate, indeed. Perhaps we should have this conversation in my office on the third floor.

Finally, the Sorting Hat had been wrong. Peter thought as he followed the Death Eater.

oOoOoOoOo

Author's note. This chapter is heavily inspired by a chapter of the fanfic:Le droit de choisir .

Injury

Author's note: In the previous chapter, Voldemort mentioned that he was plotting something in Russia. Nott refused to become a Death Eater and was then tortured for long hours before his friends and Dobby came to save him. This adventure gave Peter the courage to go see Lucius to try to plot with him against Voldemort.

oOoOoOo

Théodore was in pain. He tried to open his eyes, but closed them immediately. Someone was approaching. A few seconds later, his whole body was seized by violent spasms of pain. He no longer had the strength to scream, so he began to cry. He wanted to escape, but realized with horror that he was chained. When was this going to end? But tirelessly, the Death Eater continued his work.

Mr. Nott, if you are awake, now it might sting a little.

The pain was such that he almost lost consciousness. He forced himself to reopen his eyes and an intense light illuminated the worried face of Madam Pomfrey. And he was not chained, but covered in so many bandages that he couldn't move. He tried to speak, but a terrible pain seized his throat and only a completely inaudible whisper came out of his mouth.

Do not try to speak for the moment.

If he could have, he would have made an extremely sarcastic remark to her about how she could have told him BEFORE. Instead, he settled for glaring at her. But she seemed not to even notice and busied herself with spreading an extremely foul-smelling cream all over her body. Then she began to move her legs. Theodore discovered with horror that school nurses had advanced training in torture that any Death Eater would envy.

I'm sorry, Theodore, but it's necessary if we want you to be able to walk again someday, and I've already given you more than the authorized dose of painkillers for a child your age, explained Pomfrey, tears in her eyes.

By what right did she allow herself to address him informally? Théodore tried to turn away with dignity from this excess of sentimentality, but his body refused to obey. Then another voice was heard.

So still not dead, baby Death Eater?

Greg, if you're coming for this kind of comment, you can go screw yourself. Replied the stern nurse with a vulgarity he wouldn't have thought her capable of.

But it is true that she had always shown herself to be surprisingly vehement when it came to protecting her patients, and the last few days must not have been easy for her, judging by the many dark circles under her eyes.

With pleasure, but it would be irresponsible towards our patient. Frankly, you should learn to be a little less selfish and a little more professional.

Before the nurse could respond, the face of a man with a fresh complexion, who had obviously slept well recently, filled Théo's already limited field of vision. Thanks to his pastel red wand and the many silver charms dangling from his healer's robe, it didn't take long for him to recognize him and he started trying to escape. But all he managed to do was trigger a new wave of pain.

The man adopted a worried expression and immobilized her.

Greg, what are you doing to him? cried the nurse before unceremoniously pulling him away from the bedside of his patient.

But nothing. He is the one who decided to destroy all my work. Kid, you may not realize it, but you were this close to dying. And even I don't perform miracles.

But that did not calm Théodore

Go away, you're scaring him. What did you do to him? Insisted the nurse.

But nothing, I tell you. Do you think ...? You know, he wouldn't be the first to escape only physically. He said as he moved away despite the nurse's gaze.

Pomfresh immediately thought of the Longbottoms and her heart sank. It had been horrible to face the empty gaze of her childhood friends. She didn't want to relive that with one of her patients. Especially not one so young. To think she had become a school nurse because she couldn't bear to lose her patients. She remembered that there was still time for her to leave for Tuscany, far from all this.

However, she could not prevent her gaze from drifting to her patient's eyes. Not only were they full of life, but she was captivated by the intensity of his gaze. Then she remembered an evening at Fort Nott, where Greg was laughing with other prestigious guests at the latest racist joke made by Nott senior. Then she started, realizing that it was not one of her memories.

Theodore, you are safe. Dumbledore has made sure of it. Greg is an idiot, but he would never side with You-Know-Who. He won't harm you, I promise. Despite appearances, he is the best mediwizard in England.

How so, despite appearances? Greg protested, stopping eating the meal tray of a still sleeping patient.

Nott fell asleep before hearing the rest of the conversation.

oOoOoOo

When he reopened his eyes, Théodore did not know whether several hours or several weeks had passed. But this time, it was Justin's smiling face that greeted him.

Hi my buddy.

For the last time, I am not your buddy.

Then Nott coughed continuously for a good 5 minutes. But at least he could speak. And move without too much pain, he noted with satisfaction.

Are you okay? Do you want me to call Pomfrey? Justin asked worriedly, handing him a glass of water that Theodore downed in one gulp before replying:

Certainly not! Nott alarmed, still having in mind his previous 'treatments'.

But we're cozy. And Zabini! I have proof that Theo is human. You owe me 5 galleons.

Theodore should have been offended by his words. No, coming from a mudblood, such a lack of delicacy was normal. However, that his ally Zabini would stoop to such practices (and against him, no less) should have made him furious. But seeing the Slytherin approach with a big smile, then try to give him a high five while congratulating him for surviving, the only thing he could think was that he was finally home.

You know, if you were a little more polite, I'm sure your boyfriend would have hugged you. However, the heir of the Zabinis couldn't help but add.

Immediately, Justin threw himself at Zabini in a manner that Theodore deemed quite undignified (and to think that it was about him that those cursed rumors were circulating). However,The worst part was that their racket alerted the nurse, who kicked them out and hurried to line up in front of him about ten potions that all seemed more disgusting than the others. Why on earth hadn't he killed those two idiots when he had the chance, Theodore Nott couldn't help but wonder.

oOoOoOo

A few days later, Dumbledore walked somberly through the empty corridors of Hogwarts. In recent years, strolling around the school grounds had been his only moment of serenity. His refuge where he drew the strength needed to return to the battle and continue, despite being over 100 years old, to appear to the wizarding world as an invincible leader. Nevertheless, he was not surprised that, barely begun, the war took even this moment of calm from him. He pushed open the infirmary doors and was greeted by a chorus of cries:

I didn't ask you for anything. You could have gotten yourself killed.

No, but do you hear yourself? You would be dead if we hadn't done anything.

You know, in some remote civilizations, it seems there is a word for this kind of occasion. I think it's 'thank you'. Blaise Zabini pronounced with a tone laced with irony.

Dumbledore cast an amused glance at the stern school nurse who pretended not to hear anything while reading a travel magazine about Tuscany.

Do you tolerate this kind of behavior in your field, Miss Pomfrey?

Pomfresh rolled his eyes in a mock-agitated manner before replying:

Why does everyone think I'm a heartless dragon?

Is that not the case? The old man asked his employee innocently.

Yes! But right now, I'm on vacation. She replied, taking refuge behind her magazine, just in time for Dumbledore to hear Nott's response (in fact, the whole castle had probably heard it):

So what? People die every day. That's no reason to risk your life.

Because we are friends. Justin calmly replied in return.

That's not a reason. And we're not friends.

Only you would believe that.

Fucking Hufflepuff.

Fucking Slytherin. Justin replied with irony.

Théodore replied to him with a dark look. The latter wondered if Rita Skeeter's allegations had some truth to them for him to cling to him like that. Then he slapped himself for daring to think such a thing.

And I would like to point out that I am also a Slytherin. Zabini interjected, pretending to be offended, with his unbearable smile on his lips.

Until now, he had been lenient, accustomed for several years to Nott's lack of immediate recognition. However, he had long known that Nott would not miss the first opportunity to repay what had been given to him a hundredfold. Nott could not bear the idea of owing anything to anyone. And as a good Slytherin, Blaise knew how to patiently wait for his investments to bear fruit. That is why they were allies.

Frankly, I'm pretty sure the Sorting Hat made a mistake when placing you. If your upstart kind weren't so lazy, you'd be the perfect Hufflepuff. Theodore replied violently.

For the first time in a long time, Blaise got angry with his friend. Théodore was regularly offensive and cutting (most often without even realizing it), but he had never spoken to him in that tone:

I understand that you had a rough time, but if you could stop acting like a jerk for 5 minutes, you would understand that you're not the only one with problems. And could you defend me too? he finished, turning to Justin.

No, I'm sorry, but he's right. Don't worry, we'll make room for you in our dormitory. Well, if this keeps up, we'll end up accommodating all of Hogwarts and might have to sleep in the same bed, but ...

Blaise didn't listen to the rest and just facepalmed, praying that no one would hear Justin's ramblings. Otherwise, soon there would also be rumors about him. Although that would open up an infinite universe of jokes about love triangles. But he also risked losing the attention of part of the female crowd, he thought, pretending to ignore the relatively small amount of attention he actually had. He eventually resolved this cruel dilemma by answering:

Listen Justin, we've already talked about this. As long as you haven't settled things with Theo, our love is impossible. I can't steal my best friend's boyfriend. Or girlfriend. Who's on top, again?

Then he started running towards the exit before Justin could catch him. He had plenty of time to be serious. But on the way, he bumped into something soft and fell backwards. He looked up to see the amused gaze of Albus Dumbledore. Zabini gulped.

Hello Mr. Zabini. A lemon candy? The old headmaster amused himself by asking, adopting his best imitation of a senile grandpa.

He had never confessed to anyone (not even to Minerva) that one of the reasons he was so keen on keeping the headship of Hogwarts was the amusement he found in playing the old doting grandpa and observing the antics of his students. To him, they were all his children. Of course, he had his favorites, but in his heart, they had all come to matter. This is why, despite the accumulated fatigue over all these years, he could never abandon the fight. He would have all the time to rest once all his children were safe.

Sorry, Mr. Director. Uh, no thank you. Blaise stammered as he got up.

What a shame he said as he swallowed one. They come from a box I opened this morning. They are very fresh. He said softly so that Pomfresh wouldn't scold him once again for how little he cared about his diabetes.

What do you want? Theodore Nott asked in a tone that was undoubtedly meant to be impressive, once he had advanced far enough for him to see him from his hospital bed.

An infinite box of chocolate frogs and a new evening dress.

His tirade didn't even elicit a smile on the wary face of Theodore Nott. So he continued more seriously:

And also know what I am going to do with you.

Of us? There is no us. No one can escape the Dark Lord. Sooner or later he will find me. You are going to let me escape. Alone! he specified in Justin's direction.

If you think that after everything we've done to save your skin, we're going to let you leave. Attempted Justin.

You don't understand? It's far too dangerous to stay with me. You've just given me a reprieve. He can't let me get away with it, not when I've openly defied him. Not when the loyalty of his Death Eaters is so shaky.

At his words, Dumbledore intervened:

What do you mean by that?

That I do not believe in the pseudo-protections you offer. Thank you for the care, but from now on, I will manage on my own.

He tried to get up, but with a careless wave of his hand, Dumbledore made him lie back down.

No. What do you mean by: "Wavering loyalty of the Death Eaters"?

Nott's face closed. Dumbledore was astonished to see that he was occluding. He did not know whether to be horrified or pleased that at such a young age, he had such knowledge of mind magics.

Mr. Nott. I believe it is more than time for you to choose your side.

I am in my own camp. And if you want information, you will have to pay for it.

Nott! Justin began to berate him, unable to believe someone would address Dumbledore like that. But the latter interrupted him with a gesture.

What do you want? He said, without his usual old man's smile.

That you protect Zabini and Justin.

It goes without saying, of course, that we ....

No, I want real protection. I want you to send them and their family with a false identity to another country. I don't want you to use your cheap manipulations to convince them to fight for you.

So Theo, it's up to us to decide...Try once more Justin before being interrupted by Dumbledore.

Blaise did not dare to say that now that he knew Théo was safe, he would be quite willing to go reconcile with his mother in Hawaii at Dumbledore's expense.

Blaise still remembered the howler his mother had sent him after they had forced that strange elf to apparate them far from their respective families to escape the departure to France. The first time the elf had appeared in his room shouting that he had intercepted their letter to Potter, he had wanted to chase the creature away with a broom. When the little creature told them why and explained that he should no longer write to him, he thought the elf was crazy (in fact, he had started to doubt his mental health just by seeing his outfit).

But when they received a letter from Théo containing more or less the same warning, he began to doubt. A few weeks later, when the elf returned crying that Master Potter's best friend was going to die and the Order didn't want to do anything, Justin and he didn't hesitate. Thanks to the creature who was apparently a former Malfoy elf (how had Potter acquired a Malfoy elf?), they were able to enter the manor via a secret passage allowing the servant to move without bothering the masters of the place. Indeed, the Malfoys despised their elf so much that they hadn't thought to remove Dobby from the list of creatures allowed to penetrate the manor's protections (otherwise, they would have been torn to shreds when theirtentative would have alerted all the Death Eaters present). What they saw next horrified Blaise so much that even now, he still had nightmares about it. Theo was right: Harry was dead. And it would have been better if Theo had been.

If he had been alone, he would have turned back, vomited the entire contents of his stomach, and then gone to find his mother, telling himself that he couldn't do anything. But it seems that once again Théodore was right and that he belonged more with the badgers.

I would not attempt to convince you that your concerns are unfounded by trying to explain that your friends are too young for me to consider involving them and that I am not Voldemort (even Theodore shuddered upon hearing the cursed name). However, I regret to inform you that it is too late for such a solution.

Dumbledore took a recent copy of the Daily Prophet from his robe, where on the front pages were spread the photos of Blaise, Theodore, and Justin. The nurse came out of her stupor and tried to prevent her patient from reading the article, claiming he was still fragile, but Dumbledore pushed her away, arguing that the circumstances did not allow them to spare him so much.

The first two pages were a tearful interview with his father, who offered a huge reward for any information that would allow him to find his son and his two friends. Théodore had so often dreamed that his father would say the words printed in the newspaper. He pushed the newspaper away before starting to vomit. The only thing he had to remember was that if he had been as brave as his mother, Justin and Blaise would not be in the sights of the dark lord. But now it was too late, and whether he liked it or not, they were all going to die together. (Théodore was not naive enough to believe they were going to survive)

Now indifferent to everything, he told Dumbledore everything he knew. Once Dumbledore had all the information he needed (and more, young Theo would have made a very good spy), he wanted to reassure Nott by saying that he would ensure the protection of all three of them. However, after his recent failures and the ease with which Voldemort had destroyed his protections, Dumbledore did not think he had been able to say it with enough conviction to convince the heir of the Notts.

oOoOoOo

Author's note: Some jokes in this chapter are slightly homophobic, but according to my memories of youth, it is inevitable if one wants to write realistic dialogues between middle school students of the 90s. I would like to say something that should be obvious and consensual: as long as it takes place between consenting individuals, there is nothing shameful about practicing sodomy or being homosexual. It should not be perceived as a subject of mockery and even less as an insult.

I hope things have changed, but I have the vague impression that middle school is still a hell where you have to prove you're a real man (which means pretending that at 13 you've been with about ten women) for fear of being harassed for being a fag. Let me reassure you right away, I was never harassed. I was part of the cowards who watched the bullies without doing anything for fear of being harassed myself if I spoke up. If some of my readers are still in middle school, then tell yourself it's just a bad time to get through. From my experience, after high school, people become less stupid.

Editor's note: Although I agree in principle, unfortunately, stupidity is universal. It has neither sex, nor religion, nor gender, nor orientation, nothing.And you will always find a fool to annoy you, no matter the subject. However, keep confidence in yourself and don't let the words of these idiots affect you. The only person whose opinion truly matters about you is yourself. And eat chocolate, chocolate is good!

Azkaban

My lord, your power is limitless. How were you able to achieve such a feat when you cannot cast a Patronus? One of the emaciated men in prisoner attire kneeling before Harry gushed in flattery.

When he had killed his father and grandparents, Voldemort had felt so much joy that he finally believed he had a memory powerful enough to allow him to finally master the Patronus. The next day, when he cast the spell, he almost shouted victory when for the first time a shapeless silvery wisp emerged from his wand. However, despite his efforts and the years, he was never able to produce a corporeal Patronus. Few were aware of this weakness, and everyone should know that it was not a good idea to remind him of it.

Fire. Shouted Voldemort angrily.

Dolohov screamed when part of his right arm disappeared in the flames. Fortunately, as painful as his injury was, there was nothing a good potion couldn't heal. Since Nott's escape, many others hadn't been so lucky. He knew that by acting this way, he was only reducing the number of his servants and the loyalty of the survivors. However, he couldn't help it.

To say that he had wanted to mark young Nott to slightly break the spirit of his host. He didn't know exactly what the nature of their bond was (as soon as he tried to access memories involving the people Harry cared about like his parents, that bizarre house-elf, or his friends, he felt an intense pain that forced him to retreat) but the teenager was pathetic enough to have become attached to the son of one of his most loyal Death Eaters. He hadn't anticipated for a moment that Nott would refuse the honor he was giving him. And even less the impact his escape would have on his state. Never had he felt so... unstable.

He remembered nothing, but his Death Eaters claimed that Nott had fled because for a few seconds, he had been paralyzed. Or rather, that is what Voldemort had read in their minds. (They would never have dared to confess this to him)

Voldemort felt himself losing his footing. What irony. While he had never been so powerful, he had never felt so weak.

He was more convinced than ever that his problems would end when he could use the 2 Dursleys and Harry's 3 friends to create new horcruxes. Chance had it that Harry had exactly the right number of close ones for him to have 7 again.

Normally, he would never have taken the risk of dividing his soul so much, but Voldemort did not believe in coincidences. Not since he had discovered the power of the relics. From now on, where he would have seen a chance, now he saw signs sent by a higher power working in the shadows to lead him to greatness. As long as it was in his interest, Voldemort would play the game. Nevertheless, as soon as he had the opportunity, he would teach this entity what it cost to treat Lord Voldemort like a mere pawn.

However, despite all his efforts, he found no trace of either the Dursleys or Harry's three friends. Thanks to the efforts of his Death Eaters and his spies, he had been able to find many of the Order's hideouts since Nott's escape. But every time he went there with his Death Eaters, they turned out to be empty. He wondered once again if there was a spy in their ranks.who was informing Dumbledore. But that was impossible. The terror he instilled in his troops had at least the advantage that none would ever have the courage to sell information to the old fool. And yet Voldemort doubted.

With a majestic step under the gaze of his men, all kneeling before him, he advanced towards the top of a cliff overlooking the ocean. He cast a disdainful glance at the bodies of Aurors strewn on the ground, then unleashed his power, which clashed against the protections of the most secure tower on the island. For a few seconds, a magical battle ensued, then it was overwhelmed by darkness, and the walls cracked. Finally, with a horrible death cry, an entire section of the tower wall collapsed. From the cells, now opening to the void, emerged the incredulous faces of several men and women marked by malnutrition and scabies. One of them leaned towards the void with a smile. Voldemort flew to meet her and once at her level, gently took her chin in his hands to force her to look him in the eyes:

Hello Bella

She responded with a cold and genuine laugh. A laugh that echoed his own feelings. The fortress of Azkaban was his now. And after he had managed the feat of killing a Dementor, he had no doubt that the soul-eaters would quickly join him. He knew no more than Dolohov how the relics had been able to do that, but as soon as he began to feel the effects of the Dementors' proximity, he knew he was capable of it. What had started as a simple reconnaissance mission quickly turned into a full-blown conquest of the fortress. If he could do that, then his powers had no limits, and with such allies, the ministry would soon fall into his hands.

At that moment, Voldemort did not doubt that he could have cast a Patronus. But now it no longer mattered.

He thought with rage that all he had left to do was to make sure that Karkarof and Rosier had successfully completed their mission at Gringotts so that all the pieces would be in place. This time, nothing would stop him. Not even death.

oOoOoOoOo

Hey, hi, how are your daughters doing? Asks Stéphanie to her colleague from the Magical Police Brigade.

Frankly, it's been so long since I've seen the twins that I'm starting to wonder if I didn't dream the birth. Robert replied.

Be careful, I could repeat everything to Susan. In my opinion, she would have a very strong opinion on the matter.

You wouldn't dare.

It depends, are you buying me a coffee?

A man who was standing silently in a corner with a gloomy expression then exclaimed:

I don't know how you two manage to stay in such a good mood. I'm on the verge of cracking.

Well, you know Gil, he... Robert tried to answer him, but Gil interrupted him again:

If at least what we were doing was useful, but on top of that, we spend our time dealing with this damn World Cup and searching for those 3 Death Eater brats that the Gazette keeps talking about. All because their filthy rich parents. If it were my son who disappeared, they wouldn't care at all.

Yeah, but it's still important to find them. It's normal for him to ask us to work overtime. Tried to defend Stéphanie without really knowing why (she too was not very satisfied with her work lately).

But his response seemed to have the effect of further angering Gil:

My ass. As far as I'm concerned, they can rot in hell. Who's going to mourn the loss of a Nott? And in the meantime, the escapees are still on the loose. Frankly, what's gotten into the leaders? The minister has gone completely mad.

Hey Gil... She tried to warn him, but carried away by emotion, he continued his speech even louder.

No, but seriously. We can't continue like this! We need to do something to postpone the final and mobilize to find the escapees before there are any deaths.

A characteristic cough was heard.

A cold sweat ran down Gil's neck, who turned around. Umbridge stood in front of him with her horrible little girl smile plastered on her face.

Should I understand that you have some criticisms of the recent decisions of our administration, Mr. Anderson?

No, none, Madam Umbridge. It's just...

Perfect, keep it up, Mr. Anderson. We need men like you. Would you be interested in coming to my office tomorrow at 2:00 PM? We could discuss your transfer request.

My transfer request? But I haven't made any request for ....

Don't worry, I will make sure to approve it quickly. It would be a shame to lose a valuable man like you because we couldn't offer him sufficiently stimulating challenges.

Gil thought for a moment about punching the horrible toad in the face. Then he thought of his son who would soon be returning to Hogwarts (which would represent a significant cost) and his brother and sister who, like many wizards, depended directly or indirectly on the Ministry of Magic for their livelihood.

Yes, Madam Umbridge. Thank you for your consideration.

You're welcome. It's my job to ensure that the ministry's employees remain motivated to faithfully carry out their tasks.

Then she left. Gil realized that he was now alone. Without him noticing, the other two had fled. Forgetting the pile of work waiting for him on his desk, he ran to lock himself in the bathroom where he cried over his own helplessness and worried about the fate Ombrage had in store for him. The latter, on the contrary, was jubilant. By climbing the hierarchy and accumulating power, she had quickly realized that nothing was more satisfying than abusing her power to crush this kind of individual, whose idealism brought nothing but disorder.

Of course, inevitably, a small voice (which strangely resembled that of her late mother) whispered to her that it was wrong. But at that moment, Umbridge had no trouble silencing it. Unlike Fudge, she wasn't stupid and could clearly see that what was happening now went far beyond the usual quarrels between politicians. She didn't know exactly what it was about, and even today, she sometimes doubted. It was subtle enough that from the outside, no one noticed anything. It was therefore not surprising to her that most wizards (and that incompetent Fudge) hadn't seen anything either.

But for her, who had made sure to be involved in every decision-making (even minor ones), it was impossible to miss that from now on, the purebloods were closing ranks. She also couldn't miss the sudden retirements and appointments serving as a mysterious consensus among the purebloods (whereas usually, they fought among themselves for the best positions). Adding to this the recent changes of allegiance by several high-ranking officials, one thing was clear: the purebloods had found themselves a new leader. A leader sufficiently legitimate to resolve differences between the great families or strong enough to force them to set them aside.

After Dumbledore's thunderous statements during the trial, one name quickly came to her mind. However, she hadn't wanted to believe it. It was so... She had no word to describe how absurd it was. Her ministry was threatened by a child just 14 years old and a ghost. Nevertheless, since the escape, she had to face the facts. Dark days were looming, and if she did nothing, the ministry would not survive. She had to strengthen discipline and ensure that the transition was as short as possible. If she managed to maintain order during the regime change, then the ministry would endure, and the Death Eaters would have to deal with her administration to run the country.

Umbridge was not worried about what was to come. After all, the Death Eaters are hardly more cruel than the average politician. The only difference is that they allow themselves to be openly so. When they have power, they will become more reasonable again. Umbridge was used to dealing with this kind of character and knew what to expect, she tried to reassure herself. With a bit of luck, she might even take the opportunity to get rid of some undesirables.

But deep down, she wasn't so sure she was making the right choice. Maybe she should contact Dumbledore? No, thought Umbridge. Most wizards saw him as a living god and blindly trusted him to solve their problems. But Umbridge had been in the front row to see the man's limits and his progressive degeneration over the years. Dumbledore was too old to support a new war. Moreover, he had no regard for order and the ministry. He and his band of anarchists and misfits would remorselessly sacrifice the ministry (as well as the political stability they had struggled so hard to build since the last war) in an attempt to postpone the inevitable.

She returned to her office, repeating to herself like a mantra that, no matter what happened, she just had to ensure order and discipline were maintained. The world might collapse, but not the ministry. At least not as long as she had a say.

OooOoOo

So, kids, these holidays by the sea are going to be pretty nice.

Theodore did not reply and moved away to hide the weakness caused by the side-along apparition that the young Auror, whom Dumbledore had tasked with accompanying them to their hiding place, had subjected him, Justin, and Blaise to.

To Theodore's great relief, this morning, the Hogwarts nurse had finally acknowledged that he was sufficiently recovered to be moved, but he was still weak.

Once recovered, he examined the surroundings and saw that he was on the threshold of a cottage at the top of a cliff where the ocean waves crashed at a rhythm.regular. Even if he still doubted the director's protection, he had to admit that it seemed like a good hiding place. The location was isolated enough that no one would notice it, and the nearest inhabited place seemed to be a small fishing village visible in the distance. Added to this were protection spells so powerful that the air around the cottage seemed solid and a fidelitas cast by the director himself. Then he saw another Auror come out of the house to greet them, and he understood that guards must be taking turns constantly to protect the place (and supply it with food).

He glanced at Justin and Blaise who, without further concern for him, were marveling at the landscape and the metamorphmagus talents of their bodyguard.

Without paying further attention to their babbling or the suspicious look cast at him by the old auror temporarily guarding the place, he began to move forward with the help of his cane and went inside. Quickly, he found a living room and, with tears in his eyes, sat on an old rickety sofa that must have dated back to the construction of the place. At that moment, he hated his body and its weakness. But he couldn't let his emotions cloud his judgment. With the help of occlumency and a habit deeply ingrained in him, he repressed his emotions and gently placed his cane beside him instead of throwing it violently through the window as he wanted to. Pomfrey had assured him it would be temporary and that in a few weeks, he would have regained most of his abilities. His father had taught him the importance of details and had especially noted the word 'most.' But he was pulled from his dark thoughts by the arrival of a thin, horse-faced woman accompanied by a massive man whose mustache made him look like a walrus. Both were dressed in Muggle fashion. Probably more Muggle-borns who had no respect for their traditions or culture.

Hello, are you one of Harry's friends? Asked the woman.

Yes. Nott replied with the coldness of a polar ice cap in the middle of winter.

Despite the tone of his response intended to subtly make her understand that he wanted to be alone, she stepped forward with a forced smile (mentally, he heard Blaise's voice telling him that he always used that tone).

Hello, I am Petunia Dursley. I was informed of your arrival. How are you?

I did not authorize you to address me informally, mudblood. Theodore replied while thinking. He was sure he had heard the name Dursley before, but where?

The only thing he was sure of was that it was not that of a pure-blood family (His father had forced him to learn the name and genealogy of all the English pure-blood families).

Who do you think you are, you dirty thug. Vernon began to shout, his face purplish.

Vernon, calm down. Pleaded Petunia.

Nott kept his mask of indifference, but picked up his cane and stood up with difficulty. Even in normal times, he did everything to avoid being near an angry adult, so in his state, he had no qualms about fleeing.

Where are you going? Stay.

I'm going to my room. (He didn't know where it was, but exploring the place wouldn't hurt him)

Let me help you. She immediately offered upon seeing his disability.

Do not touch me. Theodore Nott does not need any help, especially not from a mudblood.

Young man, you will immediately lower your tone. My wife just wanted to help you. Vernon began to scold him, while Petunia looked at him in horror.

Nott!?

Theodore was used to his name provoking this reaction, especially among those who had experienced the last war. When he was younger, he would reflexively lower his eyes and flee as far as possible. But his father had taught him, through numerous punishments, that besides being unworthy of a Nott, this prey-like attitude only encouraged their detractors to attack them. So he forced himself to turn around and look her in the eyes:

Yes, Theodore Nott? Would you dare to disrespect my name.

A Nott killed my father and my mother.

As always, Théodore felt a pang in his heart upon hearing this, but showed nothing.

Well, it wasn't me. Now, let me pass.

I see that you have made the acquaintance of our charming guest. Said the auror who had finally appeared, followed by her allies. Don't worry, he barks a lot, but doesn't bite.

May I know the name of the one who dares to address the heir of the noble house of Nott in this way.

Tonks. But exceptionally, you can call me: 'Madam Auror please don't kick my ass, I'll be nice'. In a half-authoritative, half-amused tone.

He paused.

Are you Nymphadora Black? The half-blood cousin of Draco.

I am Tonks. She said in a tone where all trace of humor had disappeared.

Your Muggle ancestry doesn't matter. You are a Black.

Théo! Excuse him. He's been on edge since... Since he was born, actually, but now, it's different. Joked Justin in a small voice.

The auror gave him a dark look, then, obeying his colleague's silent order, went out to calm down. The old auror then advanced towards him with his limping gait, turned his glass eye on him, and warned him in a frightening voice:

I have my eye on you, boy.

Then Justin turned to the Dursleys with an expression of forced joy:

Hello, I am Justin Finch-Fletchley and this is Blaise, you must be Harry's parents.

Theodore then mentally called himself an idiot upon realizing who the Dursleys were.

Pleased to meet you. Said Petunia, shaking his hand timidly.

Don't worry, we all know that the gazette only tells nonsense. Justin assured her upon seeing her nervousness.

These are not nonsense. Said Theodore in a harsh voice.

Théo, what are you talking about? Asked Justin.

According to my father, these are real memories that the Dark Lord extracted from Harry's memory.

Your father, your father, always your father. He's starting to annoy me, that one. I thought you understood that he only talks nonsense. You'd have to be a real nutcase to do that to a child. Isn't that right, Mrs. Dursley?

Seeing his gaze, Justin thought that it was going to be long weeks.

oOoOoOoOo

Peter was panting, turning on the spot, his wand tightly gripped in his hand, waiting for something or someone. Then a blinding white light flew through the air. Peter thought of lightning as his wand flew out of his hand, he fell to his knees and pleaded:

Don't kill me!

It was not my intention. Dumbledore replied, thinking that he had a very unpleasant feeling of déjà vu.

Dumbledore stands in front of Peter, with his long robes whipping around him and his face illuminated from below by the light at the end of his wand.

Well, could I know why I should continue to trust you after you kept to yourself that the Dark Lord was planning to attack Azkaban?

Because you have no choice. You need a spy within the Death Eaters.

We always have a choice. Dumbledore replied, sending threatening sparks flying from the tip of his wand.

I wasn't aware. It was just supposed to be a reconnaissance mission. He didn't think he could take Azkaban so soon. I've already helped you so much.

You provided us with as much information as we wanted on the minor raids of the dark lord and nothing on the most important one. Exactly the kind of behavior I would expect from a double agent sent by the dark lord to gain my trust. The story of Severus must have inspired him.

The only response Peter could imagine was that the Dark Lord would never have given such suspicious instructions to one of his spies, but he doubted the remark would be well received. So he kept silent and waited, trembling. His patience finally paid off, because after a moment that seemed to last an eternity to Peter, Dumbledore lowered his wand and asked:

Even if the message comes from you or Voldemort, I want to hear it. What have you come to ask me?

The Dark Lord is gathering all his forces for a massive assault. He is letting very little information slip and spends most of his time on mysterious preparations with Karkaroff. But the date leaves little doubt. He wants to attack during the World Cup final.

We didn't need a spy to understand that he was going to try to take advantage of the final in one way or another. What will be the location of the attack?

Peter murmured the answer so faintly that the wind carried it away before it reached Dumbledore's ears. But even if he had shouted it in the middle of a sunny field, Dumbledore would have doubted he understood correctly.

Either Voldemort has gone completely mad, or it is a blatant trap intended to divert the order from the real site of the attack.

This time Peter did not shiver when the director used the cursed name without paying attention. He was convinced that his end was near. After all he had done, who would be crazy enough to believe him. Apparently Dumbledore:

Good! What is Lucius's plan?

oOoOoOoOo

Voldemort listened attentively to the report of his new spy in the camp ofDumbledore. Nevertheless, none of the information he reported really interested him. The only notable fact was a vague rumor saying that the Weasleys had finally joined the lemony one, but he didn't know if he should put faith in it. However, the news had nonetheless captured his attention. He thought back to the day when Dolohov had killed Molly Weasley's brothers. From the memories he had viewed in the minds of his servants, it was a memorable battle where the Prewett twins had displayed magical power and courage worthy of Gryffindor himself. And it was no exaggeration since after several centuries of disappearance, the sword of Gryffindor had finally made its grand return. During a battle that saw the victory of his loyal Death Eaters, he had finally been able to seize the Gryffindor relic that should have become his seventh and final Horcrux. A Horcrux that, thanks to Gryffindor's magic, would have remained perfectly protected in the mysterious place where the sword disappeared after use, only to reappear if a powerful warrior embodying Gryffindor's values manifested. The Horcrux could then possess him before he became a threat to his reign of darkness.

It should have been his greatest masterpiece, completing the work of his life. But instead... Maybe he could kill that Molly Weasley to create his new horcrux. In a way, it would be a way to come full circle and would probably be a murder glorious enough to mark this creation. After all, she was the matriarch of the most prestigious pure-blood clan opposing his reign. Not to mention that he had been able to observe her combat abilities before she withdrew traumatized from the battlefield. Like most members of her family, she was a powerful witch. If she agreed to abandon her ridiculous chivalric principles, she might even defeat Bellatrix.

Yes, it was decided. He interrupted his spy's soporific report and threw some Doloris at him to teach him to only report minor information and vague rumors. Voldemort had no time to waste on such stupidity.

Everything was going as planned and despite the gesticulations of that old fool, his plan was now ready and soon England would fall into his hands. At that moment, no family, however rich and pure, would be safe from his fury. He could then confront Molly Weasley and with her death, symbolically put an end to all resistance and mark the beginning of his eternal reign.

World Cup final

Fred was flying at full speed, weaving between the many people gathered around them, ignoring the outraged complaints that his dangerous conduct caused. He knew it was dangerous to go so fast amidst so many people, but at that moment, Fred and George could only continue, letting out a scream to celebrate their freedom. After their escapade at the ministry, their parents hadn't said anything. They thought they would get the punishment of the century, but all they got was an indescribable look from their mother and the order to stay locked in their room until further notice. That hurt them more than the worst of screams.

And unlike Ginny, they didn't even have the certainty of having been right to ease their guilt. In the end, their parents might not have been wrong. Their sister had put herself in danger for nothing. People barely remembered her testimony (at the same time, she hadn't had time to say much). On the other hand, they were convinced that Lucius Malfoy would remember. Since the incident, on the family clock, Ginny's hand was permanently pointing to 'in mortal danger'.

Subsequently, Fred and George had talked about it a lot. Or rather, they had exchanged long meaningful looks. It had been a long time since the twins needed words to understand each other. Not on really important matters. Fred couldn't understand how people managed to live without the bond that united him to George. They must feel so lonely.

During the days that followed, they tried to talk to their parents about it. They didn't really know what they were hoping for. That they would forgive them or yell at them. Anything rather than the awkward silence that had fallen over the Burrow. Their father was held up at the ministry for longer and longer (and after the mass escape from Azkaban, they hardly saw him at all). As for their mother, she was absent more and more regularly, ordering them to stay at the Burrow.

As surprising as it may seem at first, the twins respected his prohibitions. As much out of a desire to be forgiven as to spare their mother after the Death Eaters who had killed their uncles escaped from Azkaban. But when their parents announced that they would not be going to the Quidditch World Cup after all, because it was too dangerous, they exploded. Within these four walls, they were suffocating. Finally, on the day of the final, their parents disappeared, leaving them with Aunt Muriel. It didn't take them long to escape the care of their cantankerous relative. Ginny begged them to take her with them, but after what had happened at the Ministry, they had vowed not to put her in danger again without their parents' consent.

They left then, under the well-deserved insults of their little sister, to live the best moment of their lives. And the most lucrative. He fully intended to take advantage.The opportunity to relieve some high-ranking ministry official of enough Galleons to launch their store. They knew they couldn't rely on their parents' more than limited means to achieve their dream (and working for the ministry as their parents wanted was out of the question). After several hours of a flight that did them a world of good (they missed freedom), they were blocked by a magical dome several kilometers from the tent field surrounding the stadium with a crowd of wizards too poor or not influential enough to get tickets. Despite everything, they refused to let the circumstances affect their good mood and pooled their meager savings to buy, at a price far too high, some Omnioculars and a bottle of butterbeer from a reseller who forgot to ask if they were of legal drinking age.

Then George challenged him to a race. It was a gross mistake he would make him regret. He then cut through the crowd with all the speed his old Comet 90 allowed. When his brother finally gave up and a girl who had followed his aerial exploits approached him, he felt like the master of the world. His brother walked away, understanding that sometimes even twins needed privacy, and he followed the match pressed against the girl, regularly exchanging the binoculars. Fred began to wonder if she hadn't approached him just to take advantage of his binoculars, but a single glance at her beautiful face convinced him that it didn't matter much. He turned his attention back to the match that was starting, swallowing another sip of butterbeer, which he suddenly spat out. Worried, his new friend asked him what was happening. He didn't bother to answer her and went in search of his brother. Despite the crowd, he soon spotted George waving at him.

So Don Juan, she finally understood that I am the more handsome of the two.

Mom and Dad are here.

What are you talking about?

Look under the third step on the left. More to the right. There, you see. He indicated while guiding his brother's gaze.

Oh the bastards. They came without us.

Are you stupid or what? Do you really think they would make a plan like that for us?

But before George could answer, a black cloud surrounded the stadium and blocked their view.

oOoOoOo

And the chaser is about to shoot, oh! But what a shame, that Bludger didn't miss him! But he gets up with courage, but what's happening? Yes, Victor Krum has spotted the Golden Snitch and it's not a bluff this time. He's going to catch it and ahhhhhhhhhhhhhh!

A cry of immense pain echoed through the microphone. The commentator had stopped commenting on the match and was now screaming as if his jaw would come off. The players continued to play, but the spectators in the stands had stopped following the match. An explosion then rang out above the stadium and all the magical lights went out.

A sense of panic began to take hold of the stands. At that moment, Scrimgeour decided it was time to put an end to this masquerade. He ordered the referee to suspend the match. He would probably get fired by Fudge, but the only thing that had allowed him to survive the first war was his instinct, and now it was screaming at him that something very serious was brewing.

He was not disappointed, for even before the referee could blow the final whistle, a new explosion tore the stadium's barriers in two with a rattling noise that echoed for a kilometer around and rendered all the occupants of the place deaf for the next few minutes. A black cloud then descended into the stadium (injuring the players as it passed). Once the cloud dissipated, the Dark Mark shone in the sky. In the center of the field, there was now a group of Death Eaters with in front of them, a Harry Potter with red eyes and a chilling gaze who declared:

Rejoice, for Voldemort gives you the great honor of witnessing a historic event. Today marks the beginning of my reign. Bow down and beg for my mercy and perhaps I will grant you one more day to live.

What? What is he saying? I can't hear anything because of this explosion. Who is this runt? Pronounced the Bulgarian referee as he landed to see what was happening.

Don't forget to remind me to spray it when everything is finished. Voldemort asked the Death Eater to his right.

It's over, Tom. Declared Dumbledore's calm voice.

A few seconds later, about fifty members of the Order of the Phoenix appeared in the middle of the field, spreading out all around him. They were quickly joined by a good hundred Aurors led by Scrimgeour. This should have been impossible. According to his orders, after he used the power of the relics to destroy the stadium's protections, he and his Death Eaters had created anti-apparition barriers entirely under his control. And Dumbledore could not have guessed that he would attack the most protected and scrutinized place in the world with his meager forces. But he was not surprised. Voldemort had long suspected the presence of a traitor in his ranks (at the same time he had never trusted anyone, not even his most loyal Death Eater).

Then his blood froze as he felt that terrifying magic unfold around him. An Avada had just struck the invisibility cloak that he now wore permanently. As the legend had it, it was capableTo stop death in person. He was just in time, surrounded by a powerful shield of that inhuman magic to stop the dozen spells that rained down on him just after Lucius aimed at his back (as if it was a prearranged signal). He turned on himself and found that he was surrounded by enemies. The Death Eaters who had not betrayed him had been executed by surprise by a group of traitors visibly led by the one he considered his right-hand man.

He hid his surprise with a mask of indifference, but could not suppress his anger when an old man in a purple robe stepped forward in front of the fighters. Why did he always have to persist in taking everything from him? First his first (and only) friends and now his Death Eaters.

Ah, my dear professor. You have come to witness my triumph. How fortunate that you were able to live long enough to see this. But unfortunately, your life ends tonight.

Dumbledore paid him no attention and calmly advanced, unleashing his power. The air crackled with magic. The panic that had seized the stands stopped, and all turned their gaze back to the center of the field. Voldemort released his magic in turn, and the sky darkened. With a dull thud, his magic collided with Dumbledore's, forming an invisible line that divided the field in two.

To be honest, Tom, I didn't think you would be powerful enough to get past the stadium's protections. It's very impressive. But it was foolish to come here, Tom. The whole world has its eyes on you. You who had made so much effort to hide your return. Declared Dumbledore as if he were talking about a particularly ambitious school project of his former student.

I was tired of being ignored. From now on, the world will know that there is no place to escape me. No magic powerful enough to stop me.

Tom, you won't be able to face all of us. This is your last chance to prove that we were wrong about you. That I was wrong. Release Harry and I promise you …

But Voldemort interrupted him with a terrifying laugh. A laugh that sounded strangely false in Harry's throat.

Ah! Ah! Ah! My dear professor, are you really trying to make me believe that you've become sentimental as you age? I can sense your fear polluting the atmosphere from here. You are aware of the power of the relics. What do you know about them?

Nothing, but I know the most important thing. I have walked this path before you and I have gone far enough to know that it can only bring you solicitude. And whatever its power, a man alone can never accomplish anything worth living for. I implore you one last time: stop this madness.

The personal guard of the Bulgarian minister and half of the magical brigade chose that moment to join the center of the field and help the aurors toencircle Voldemort. They had taken advantage of this exchange to restore calm in the stadium and place the ministers and most of the officials in a secure room under the honor stand. Realizing that they could not evacuate anyone until the barriers set by Voldemort were broken, they decided to head to the center of the stadium. More than a hundred wizards trained for combat now had their wands pointed at Voldemort.

Ah! Ah! Ah! You are right. Even magic has its limits. No matter his powers, a man has no chance against the force you have gathered.

At the end of his sentence, he pressed a Muggle remote control and then nothing more. A great flash of white light appeared and for a microsecond, a deafening silence was heard. There was no noise, but this silence resonated like the loudest din they had ever heard. In fact, the noise was just beyond what a human brain could conceive.

Then the temperature rose to several thousand degrees and everyone was vaporized. Or almost. Dumbledore deployed all his magic and talent, but he was completely overwhelmed. In a fraction of a second, he felt the presence of his children disappear. The air was so suffocating that he could no longer breathe. He didn't know if it was due to the pain caused by the flames or despair, but he bent his knee. Then he felt Mad-Eye, his lifelong companion, extinguish. He heard the voices of all his lost loved ones who had once sacrificed themselves for him and all those still alive who counted on him resonate and fill him with determination. He got up with difficulty to face the infernal blaze.

Several kilometers away, Fred Weasley was swept away with the other clandestine spectators by a deadly shockwave and fainted when his body collided with something soft. Before his mind fell into oblivion, he managed to struggle enough to open his eyes. He didn't know why an old memory resonated within him. It was about a Muggle book that his father had found, he didn't know where, and had shown enthusiastically to the twins in secret from their mother who disapproved of his research.

—These Muggles are so inventive, according to this book, they have a superstition saying that if war breaks out, it will cause the end of the world. Those dear Muggles. They call it mutually assured destruction.

Arthur was telling them while showing a photo that looked exactly like the mushroom-shaped cloud spreading before his eyes.

Then, as quickly as it had appeared, the hell disappeared, leaving behind only an indescribable carnage. Nothing remained except for a few ruins and a fleeing rat. Everything was destroyed except for a cloak, a wand, and a ring glowing with a green light. The light concentrated and from the pile of ash surrounding the three artifacts emerged an arm, then a bare torso to which the cloak wasattached until the triumphant face of young Harry became recognizable. Then his smile faded. He adopted a crazy look and shouted:

Impossible!

In this landscape of death, a golden orb filled with cracks sparkled. As if it had obeyed a mysterious signal, it vanished revealing the headmaster standing with his wand in hand. Dumbledore looked at the heap of corpses surrounding him. Most of the Ministry employees, all the department heads, the Minister himself, most of the Aurors, Obliviators, and members of the Order of the Phoenix. On his advice, all the forces capable of opposing Voldemort had gathered in the stadium to die there. Peter had indeed betrayed him, thought Dumbledore.

His gaze became hard. His eyes were those of a man who had lost everything. He raised his wand. Voldemort tried to react, but his blood froze when he realized he couldn't even cast a simple protego with what remained of his host's weak magical reserves. These had been completely annihilated when, out of pride, he had attempted (unsuccessfully) to withstand the blast of the atomic bomb he had detonated just at the limits of the spells protecting the stadium. Where the magical interferences were weak enough for Muggle technology to work again.

He was completely at Dumbledore's mercy. A simple Stupefy could destroy him. Voldemort felt his final hour arrive. He felt no regret. Just anger and incomprehension. Despite everything he had done, despite the help of the three relics, how could Dumbledore still surpass him? How had he succeeded where he had failed? He who had pushed the boundaries of magic. But before the old wizard could finish his incantation, he fainted.

Voldemort sighed with relief as he saw the ashes raised by his fall gently settle. But his disappointment did not diminish for all that. For the whole world, this day would be one of his triumph. But for him, it would forever be the day when Dumbledore had definitively surpassed him. He screamed in rage until he heard the sound of a helicopter in the distance. He had to leave before the rescue arrived. He cast one last look around him. In the midst of the ashes and charred remains was a black agonizing body. It was impossible to identify, but Voldemort had to vent his anger:

Lucius, so it was you, the traitor. Or rather the leader of the traitors. Of all, you are the one I would have thought the least likely to betray me. You who have served me so faithfully all these years. Don't worry. In the end, even if I had to serve as bait myself, your actions allowed me to triumph and prove my invincibility to all those who would consider following in your footsteps. I will know how to reward your family as it should be for all you have done for me.

But whoever this man (or woman) was, they died in an extremely painful final gasp before Voldemort could finish his sentence.Voldemort let out one last sigh of frustration and after making sure that his reserve of magic had sufficiently recharged, he disapparated as men in fatigues began to approach the area.

oOoOoOo

Author's note: We have finally arrived at the idea that inspired me to write this fanfic: Voldemort showing up in the middle of the Quidditch World Cup final with the Deathly Hallows to detonate an atomic bomb and destroy the wizarding society in one blow. Everything before was imagined by wondering what could lead to this situation and everything after by wondering what could result from it.

Author's Note 2: For many, Voldemort does not use an atomic bomb or other Muggle technology because he is not crazy and does not want to rule over a pile of ashes. Personally, I disagree with this interpretation.

For me, what makes Voldemort so terrifying is precisely that he would be the kind of lunatic who would be delighted to see the world burn as long as he could rule the survivors. For me, the only reason he doesn't use an atomic bomb is simply that, like the majority of wizards, he is unaware of their existence. Voldemort finished his seventh year at Hogwarts in 1944, and after that, I think he had no further contact with the Muggle world. However, the first atomic bomb was only created in 1945. Before that, it was just a possibility known only to a few researchers and science fiction fans, of which Voldemort was probably not a part. Access to Harry's memories corrects this flaw.

Note from the proofreader: I both agree with Serpentfou and disagree with his assumption. I think that as long as Voldemort was Tom Riddle, the idea of destroying everything to rule over a pile of ashes would never have occurred to him. However, from the creation of his first Horcrux, he moved closer to this image. Because with each Horcrux, a piece of soul was missing from the rest, and if you think about it, he gradually lost his lucidity and intelligence, and even his emotions. We can therefore conclude that the fragmentation of the soul is just as harmful. In the end, Nagini had more of Voldemort than Voldemort himself.

Press brief 1

A few minutes later on television:

We interrupt this program for a special bulletin. About an hour ago, an atomic bomb exploded in a wooded area located a few kilometers from Manchester. Here are images of the explosion filmed by an amateur camera.

After the presenter's message, a video showing children celebrating a birthday on the roof of a building began. At first, everything was going well. The children were laughing while the adults lit candles on a cake. Everyone stopped when, in the distance, an atomic mushroom emerged from the forest. Then the blast knocked over the camera and the video stopped abruptly.

During the break, directives had reached the studio and had been communicated to the presenter. She then pretended to be calm and perfectly reassured, in accordance with the government's requests, she declared:

We call on our fellow citizens to remain calm. We do not know what happened, but the military authorities assure us that it is not an attack by an enemy country. There is no risk of explosion in other cities. Nevertheless, for safety, the government has declared martial law and the total closure of borders. If you live in a large city, you are requested to calmly go to the subway, a basement, or any other nearby shelter. If you are in the countryside or there are no shelters nearby, close the shutters and stay at home. Do not attempt to flee.The explosion took place in the middle of the countryside. As a result, moving away from major urban centers will not keep you safe. You will only reduce your protections in the event of an explosion and hinder rescue efforts by clogging the roads. Now, our reporter in downtown Manchester.

The face of a girl amidst urban riots appeared. After a few seconds, she declared in total contradiction to the calm tone of the presenter:

Hello Eliza, it's panic here. The radioactive mushroom was visible to everyone and a few seconds later, all electrical devices went out. Despite the denials from the firefighters and the weather service, many believe the rumors claiming that the radioactive cloud has reached the city. As you can see behind me, downtown is being looted. I am being told that soldiers have arrived from the nearby military base, but they are blocked by the mass of civilians fleeing the area to escape the radiation.

Excuse me for interrupting, but a panic has started in London. Our reporters have gone there to try to... No, it's impossible. But we can't broadcast that.

We are live, Lyse.

Yes, excuse me. New images have just arrived in our studios and I assure you that they are authentic. They were filmed in the center of London, a few steps from our studios, by one of the surveillance cameras recently deployed.

On the TV, a video appeared of a crowd of people dressed in robes fleeing a pub far too small to contain them all and once they reached the street, teleporting. Then, the camera changed angle and showed a gigantic skull appearing in the sky, then being covered by a huge cloud of black smoke that seemed to come from nowhere.

We are also informed that despite the heatwave affecting the entire country, an intense cold has taken over a very busy district on the outskirts of London. People who get too close faint. Those who managed to escape in time report having lost all will to live. Others felt as though they were seized by an invisible creature and left their bodies. Wait, I'm being told that the center of the phenomenon is a store named Purge & Pionce on Health Street. It is unknown what is happening there, but the victims number in the hundreds. The city police are asking citizens to stay as far away from the area as possible and not to try to approach the zone under any circumstances. For now, all rescue teams sent to the site have fainted shortly after arriving, including a rescue team equipped with radiation protection and gas masks.

oOoOoOo

Author's note: In the canon, the stadium where the Quidditch World Cup final takes place is near Dartmoor. But it's in the middle of nowhere. There's not a soul up there. Result according to this site:https://nuclearsecrecy.com/nukemap/ Detonating an atomic bomb there would only cause a thousand deaths.

This is totally unacceptable. I have a reputation as a sadistic author to defend. And then think of Voldemort's disappointment. Think of his sad eyes realizing he can't even surpass the 3,000 deaths of the September 11 attacks. Dark wizards have feelings too.

Reaction

Fred slowly opened his eyes, only to immediately realize it was a mistake. As soon as he moved his eyelids, he felt an excruciating pain engulf his entire face.

Greg, come over here, there's one that's alive. He heard a voice yelling in the distance.

Hortense, I am busy. Replied an angry man's voice.

But sir, I assure you that I saw it move.

Hortense, as you can see, I'm not busy, it was a polite way to tell you to leave.

Then a few seconds later, screams coming closer and closer were heard.

But let go of my ear, I remind you that I am your superior.

Stop acting like a child and do your job. I warn you, the next time you kill a patient, I'll let you deal with the paperwork.

Fred then felt a man lean over him eagerly. The breath on his face hurt him terribly. He just wanted him to move away. Then he felt the pain suddenly decrease.

Kid, if you see a light at the end of the hallway, don't go there, you might fall and break what's left of your nose!

By reflex, Fred smiled (and this time, he only felt a slight sting), then he jumped. The remark had made him think of his brother and immediately, he felt an immense emptiness.

Where is my brother?

Given the resemblance, I would say it's the big heap of meat beneath you. Ouch! But he's the one who killed him, not me. Greg protested after being violently hit on the shoulder by his assistant.

• Do you remember the kindness at work training?

• The one where I made the trainer cry?

• No, that's your psychiatrist, the kindness training is the one where you almost got strangled.

• Yes, I remember, I understand where you're coming from. Women lose their composure when they see me and become violent. Do you think I have Apollonian dysphasia?

• I assure you, in your case, the diagnosis is much simpler: you are an idiot.

But Fred did not listen to the reply of the idiot who had treated him. At the cost of an immense effort, he turned around and saw George's face frozen forever in a final smile. Without the paleness of his complexion and the strange angles of his arms, Fred could have believed he was sleeping peacefully. But from the moment he woke up, Fred knew that his brother had reserved his ultimate joke for him. George had died saving his life. The soft thing that had cushioned his fall was his brother's body.

Fred gently closed George's eyes and desperately searched for something funny to say. He knew that George would not have tolerated anything else for his last moments. But no matter what he did to hold them back, his face was covered in tears. The time for jokes was over. The time for sobs had just begun.

oOoOoOo

Fred barely noticed that he was being led to a makeshift tent camp and that what remained of his wizard's robe was taken from him before he was ordered tolie in a makeshift bed from which a nauseating smell rose. He only regained his senses when he accidentally saw his reflection in an instrument that the mediwizards had brought to try to prevent a bandaged patient in the bed next to his from vomiting (the smell seemed to come from him). Fred discovered that his face was half-charred. He had no more sorrow to devote to the loss of his appearance, but it gently brought him back to reality. He tried to get up, but upon seeing him, a nurse pinned him against the bed.

You must stay in bed. You don't seem to be affected by the curse, but your condition...

My parents were at the stadium, I have to go help them.

Young man, there is nothing you can do for them in your condition. The area is teeming with Muggle military in yellow suits, and wizards cannot access it. In any case, a curse envelops the place. Look at the state of the mediwizards who tried to go there, said the nurse, pointing to her neighbor whose bits of skin were starting to peel off.

Before Fred could understand what his words implied, the nurse forced him to drink a potion that made him drowsy. A terrifying question then seized him: How was he going to tell Ginny?

But the potion eventually became stronger, and he fell asleep without noticing that an extremely familiar rat was sneaking between the beds of the field hospital that had naturally set up near the stadium when the mediwizards realized that the number of dying people was far too many for St. Mungo's to accommodate.

Finally, that's what the medicomage Greg Housser believed as he rushed towards Edward Vogler's tent: the man who was tasked by St. Mungo's (and what was left of the ministry) with managing the camp.

Let me through, I need to see him immediately. I had a test done on the girl who gave him gonorrhea and she has AIDS. Ordered Greg Housser to the secretary who was trying to block his entry to the tent where Edward Vogler was working.

Dr. Housser, obviously. I should have guessed. Aren't you tired of being so pathetic? replied Edward Vogler as he came out of the tent with an angry look.

We are all pathetic. That's what makes life interesting.

What do you want now? I'm warning you, if you've come back to talk to me about your stupid Muggle radiation theory, no matter what Umbridge says, I'll kick you out of the camp. Only a curse can cause such damage to wizards. Muggles would never be capable of...

No, I followed your advice and decided to be realistic. By the time you understand what radiation is, all the patients will be dead. That's why I gave them all iodine tablets and broad-spectrum antibacterial potions.

What did you do? You risk killing them.

Or to cure it, frankly, I don't know which is worse.

You deserve to be sent to rot in Azkaban.

People do not get what they deserve. They get... what they have. And no one can do anything about it!

This will not end here. Starting tomorrow, I will inform the management of St. Mungo's and secure your dismissal.

Why wait? You can see that I am dangerous and need to be stopped. While you're at it, take advantage of the Floo Network to transfer number 2 to St. Mungo's before proximity to the other irradiated patients makes him sterile. Not that it would be a great loss, but you know these teenagers, they are such Drama Queens.

Curses don't work like that and you know it.

Except that it's not a curse. So what do I have to do for you to request my transfer to St. Mungo's? Kiss your mother? I can't, I already did it yesterday.

Vogler sighed and with a wave of his wand soundproofed the tent then pointed it at Housser in a threatening manner. The latter remained unshakable and replied sarcastically:

I warn you, I'm very bad in bed. In any case, that's what your father said the day before yesterday.

We lost all contact with St. Mungo's an hour ago.

Pardon?

No one answers our calls by floo and all those who tried to go there never returned. That's the real reason why we stopped sending patients to St. Mungo's and had to set up this damn camp.

And you hadn't told me because....

Because I have no confidence in you.

That doesn't surprise me. I don't trust myself either. But I understand even less why you're telling me this now.

Because, as you predicted, the teams that went to look for survivors without the ridiculous outfits you stole from the Muggle soldiers were contaminated by the curse of You-Know-Who.

Which proves that I was right and that it is not a curse.

Which proves once again that you have connections with the Death Eaters. One of them told you how to protect yourself from the curse. Tell me what you know about the curse and the real way you used to counter it?

Tell me, at your place is stupidity natural or did you have to train to reach this level? For the last time, it's not a curse, but radiation. Ask any Muggle-born.

I don't see how non-medimagicians could have any relevant opinion on the nature of this curse!

Well, listen, cast the Cruciatus Curse on me if you want, but stop spouting so much stupidity, it's unbearable. It hurts too much. And I know a thing or two about pain. Ask my patients.

The two men faced off with their eyes. Finally, Edward Vogler declared

Alright, I will pretend to trust you. Anyway, nothing else has worked. If you can at least relieve their pain, it will be a big step. I don't want to know how you do it, nor where your information comes from, but I give you free rein to treat the patients.

Your lordship is too kind. Greg simply replied before leaving the tent as quickly as possible, determined to put as much distance as possible between himself and Vogler before he changed his mind.

But the latter caught up with him.

Wait for Dr. Housser. There is no need to tell you that nothing said here should leak.

DON'T WORRY, I WOULD NEVER SAY ANYTHING ABOUT YOUR HEMORRHOIDS. Shouted Housser as he left the tent.

oOoOoOo

Madam Minister, Potter is on Diagon Alley. He has unleashed a Fiendfyre that is ravaging the alley and killing everyone who tries to stop it. People are dying by the dozens, we must (...)

Madam, an army of Dementors is besieging St. Mungo's, (…)

Madam, the shortcut is more urgent, the fire is spreading, and the smoke cloud is already visible on the Muggle side.

Madam, we have not managed to stop the Muggle soldiers, they are arriving en masse at the stadium site and we have not been able to evacuate the wounded. You need to urgently contact the Muggle minister to ask him to recall his men and help us create an exclusion perimeter.

Madam, the employees who returned from the stadium started vomiting and (..)

What should we say to the families of the victims?

And if he attacks the ministry?

Stop, I am not a minister. Umbridge shouted to all those who, for an hour, had been besieging her undersecretary office where she was supposed to ensure a quiet duty while half the wizards in the country and three-quarters of the ministry employees attended the Quidditch World Cup final.

You are the highest-ranking officer.

The woman with the toad-like face continued to scream:

Ha!!!! But what do you want me to do? How do you expect us to hide such an explosion? How do you expect us to face it? Almost all our Aurors died in that cursed stadium. And most of our Obliviators are at St. Mungo's or in the Ministry hall vomiting blood due to an unknown curse. We have no idea how he managed to cast such a powerful explosion spell, when he will do it again, or the nature of the curse that is making everyone around sick. And half of the Ministry employees who weren't at the stadium are unreachable and have probably fled. There you go, I hope I've summed up the situation well because that's all I can do.

Madam Umbridge?

Sorry, I cracked for a few minutes. Umbridge immediately recovered. After catching her breath and fixing her hair, she continued:

But I will not go down in history books as the minister who gave in to a 14-year-old half-blood. Or whatever he might be. Perkins, send a message to all the ministry retirees. Tell them they are mobilized and must get to Hogwarts as soon as possible. Mafalda, send a letter to McGonagall to inform her that we have found Dumbledore gravely injured. Make it politely clear that if she wants to retrieve him, she must let us requisition the castle. Juliette, go set a Fiendfyre in the Department of Mysteries. I want everything destroyed in 30 minutes. Just take the most important research reports. Steven, do the same in the records of the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures. We cannot let him get his hands on the addresses of those half-human beasts. That filthy race will betray us immediately. Everyone else, organize the relocation of all our men and equipment to Hogwarts. You have three hours.

Are we abandoning the ministry?

Do you see another solution? How do you expect us to defend it with the few troops we have left? Would you perhaps prefer to wait here for him to come and massacre us all?

And the side road? Asked an employee.

And Saint Mungo's? Asked another.

For the moment, we are doing nothing. We are retreating into a fortress from where we will plan a counter-offensive with the help of our foreign partners, replied Umbridge.

They will never help us. You know well that the witch communities have a principle of not getting involved in the internal affairs of others. Especially when they have nothing to gain from it.

The situation has changed. Send an urgent letter to Geneva to convene an extraordinary meeting of the International Confederation of Wizards. They will need to intervene at least to ensure the maintenance of the magical secrecy on our behalf. Also, send a Muggle-born Auror to protect the Muggle Prime Minister and explain to him what is happening. Choose carefully, as he will need to fulfill his role and advise the Muggle Prime Minister, even if communications are cut off with the rest of the ministry.

Madam, apart from those securing your office, we have no more Aurors. All of them died in the stadium or while trying to protect St. Mungo's or in ...

Send a retiree or a trainee Auror. Or the cousin of an Auror who works in another department, but manage to find me someone capable of casting an Expelliarmus. Otherwise, you will go yourself.

He swallowed. A few hours earlier, he was the head of the maintenance team for the Obliviators' office, and he preferred to enjoy his express promotion within the protective walls of Hogwarts. (Author's note: in plain terms, he was a janitor in a police station and now, he is the Minister of the Interior)

Yes Madam. Are you aware that losing access to the side path also means losing access to our vaults at Gringotts? We will no longer be able to pay salaries or our suppliers.

We have no choice but to trust these filthy creatures to keep our gold safe during our absence. For once, their cursed obsession with banking secrecy and deposit respect can be useful. Meanwhile, to pay our foreign suppliers, we will request a line of credit secured by the contents of our vaults in London from the foreign branches of Gringotts. They will demand an exorbitant interest, but we have no choice. As for salaries and internal suppliers, we will force them to accept zero-interest promissory notes. Those who refuse will forgo our protection in case of a Potter attack.

OooOoOo

To Madam Umbridge

I urge you to reconsider my request for sanctions against the mediwizard Greg Housser. The list attached to this letter is only a sample of the many acts of insubordination he committed in less than a day.

Moreover, given the circumstances, a mediwizard with a long history of collusion with the enemy should not be allowed to approach such a sensitive site. Do I need to remind you of the identity of the patient we are hosting in our secure unit?

Knowing your remarkable appetite for order, I have no doubt that after becoming aware of his unclassifiable behavior, you will reconsider your decision to keep him in his position. Otherwise, I would be forced to resign.

Director Edward Volger

Head of the Crisis Management Department of the Ministry

OooOoOo

Mr. Edward Volger

I need a stroke of the pen to make a department head and 20 years to get a doctor like Housser. He stays, you leave.

PS: Never tell me what to do again.

Shade

Minister of Magic

oOoOoOo

Author's note: Greg Housser and his lines are, of course, inspired by Dr. House. However, according to legend, Umbridge's line (in her letter) comes from Napoleon.

Editor's note: And this is the second time I've appreciated Umbridge in my entire life. The first being in the monstrous saga of Hermione's adventures by Link9.

After a hard day at work, it feels good to come home.

Author's note: This very short chapter contains a very shocking passage. I invite those sensitive to sexual violence to skip this passage. A summary will be at the beginning of the next chapter so you won't be lost.

oOoOoOo

Draco Malfoy was nervously rubbing his hands as he watched his mother swing from one extreme to the other. He had never seen his mother so upset. In fact, it was the first time he had seen any emotion on the gentle face of the cold Slytherin princess. She kept pacing nervously, insulting all the servants who came within her reach (or even him if he dared to move too abruptly). This was not how Draco had imagined his long-awaited return to Malfoy Manor.

Carelessly, Draco tried to mask his disappointment by giving a violent kick to a house-elf who passed within his reach. But the only effect of this outburst of violence was to increase his frustration when, in surprise, the elf dropped the tray of macarons he had expressed a desire for out loud a few minutes earlier. Yet, for as long as he could remember, mistreating the staff had always been a source of satisfaction (and one of the few ways to gain his father's approval). It seems that today his problems were too serious. Or that he had become too old to be satisfied with his simple pleasures.

Without thinking, he began to pick up the macarons from the ground, then under his mother's furious gaze, he stopped abruptly. Once again, he cursed Nott senior and the humiliations he had to endure because of him. He still couldn't believe he had dared to deprive him of food. He, a Malfoy. And all that just because he couldn't keep up with his stupid training sessions. But this discomfort had been minor compared to the fear he felt when, in anger, he had spat in the face of the Nott patriarch that his wife had been right to commit suicide to no longer have to endure him. After this episode, to his great shame, he began to obey without question even the most absurd orders of the head of the Nott house. He didn't even dare ask the reason for the sudden disappearance of Nott junior. Anyway, the company of the Nott son was hardly more pleasant than that of his father and consequently, he didn't really miss him.

When his father came to get him out of that hell this morning, he didn't know whether he should thank him on his knees or beat him for abandoning him there in the first place. Instead, he chose to sulk with dignity by regularly sending dark looks at his father. He expected to be sharply reprimanded for such a lack of respect, then for his father to ask him the reason for his attitude. During the rare moments of respite that Nott senior allowed him, Draco dreamed of the moment when he could denounce all the abuse the man had inflicted on him. He was sure that as soon as his father found out, he would take his side and ensure that no member of that family would dare even look at a Malfoy wrongly for the next five generations.

However, his father had barely seemed to notice. Maybe he too considered him a weakling unworthy of his blood? That was too much for Draco. As soon as they arrived at Malfoy Manor, he insulted his father and ran to lock himself in his suite. Draco knew it was a completely childish behavior.Unworthy of pure blood. His parents had repeatedly told him during his early childhood that this kind of childish behavior was neither tolerable nor tolerated. However, the mix of anger and sadness combined with the frustration he had accumulated over the past week left him with no other alternative.

A few minutes later, his father had knocked on his door, but he had refused to open it, and Lucius had not insisted. Apparently, he couldn't wait and left hastily, saying in a calm voice that betrayed a threat that he didn't have time for his childishness and that he would see him upon his return. In response, Draco had shouted that he hated him, but his father had already turned on his heels. He spent the next hour reducing everything within reach to ashes (including the unfortunate elf who tried to reason with him) using the spells taught to him by Nott senior (more than ever he blessed the privilege of being able to ignore the Trace during his summers at Malfoy Manor).

Once exhausted, he sat in the middle of the ruins that now constituted his suite and thought. He was going to show them all that he was up to the task. He was going to show his father that he was worthy of being his heir. And that started with pulling himself together. He called upon the occlumency concepts that Nott and his father had taught him and with difficulty suppressed the violent emotions he felt deep in his mind in order to compose a neutral face. Then he went out, determined to confront his father. Or the dark lord in person. During those long weeks, he had been deliberately kept in the dark, but he had understood from the few sentences he had managed to extract from young Nott that the dark lord was back and that he had, of course, chosen to stay in their home (another proof in Draco's eyes of the importance of his family). The dark lord, he thought, would know what an exceptional being he was. Draco was already imagining his father's pride when the master would lavish praises on his devotion to their cause and the pride he would have in welcoming him among his Death Eaters, when he was finally old enough.

But all he found was his mother dead with worry. Lucius had never come home late. Not for 14 years. Without giving Draco time to speak, she ordered him to sit and wait beside her. Very quickly, whether due to boredom or the frugality of lunch at the Notts, his stomach had started to rumble. In accordance with proprieties, they then sat down to eat. Or rather, he sat down to eat. Despite the magnificence of the dishes presented to him, Narcissa had barely touched her plate and simply watched Draco eat in silence with a curious look.

It was only late in the evening that they finally felt the manor's protections quiver. The master of the house had arrived. With a dull noise, the doors of the state room where they were waiting opened abruptly, and Harry Potter stepped forward with a conquering stride. Draco's first instinct was to be outraged. How dared this blood traitor enter their home with such arrogance? But the words died in his mouth when his mother took him in her arms. In secret, his mother had occasionally allowed herself such effusions, but she had never hugged him so fiercely. When she began to kiss him frantically, telling him she loved him, Draco began to feel afraid.

Harry then exclaimed with a big sadistic smile on his lips:

Ah what a beautiful day.

In the unsettling silence that fell over the manor, he removed his shoes and sat in the massive chair resembling a throne that was reserved for the master of the house. Draco was filled with incomprehension at such audacity,but his protests died when he met the red eyes filled with hatred. He had to quickly lower his eyes to prevent his occlumency barriers from shattering under the sheer malevolent pressure emanating from them. Harry, on the other hand, didn't even seem to notice his presence and ordered:

Woman, go get me a tea. And you, miserable runt, go clean my shoes. I want them like new tomorrow morning. He ordered, pointing at Draco.

Lord. Where is Lucius? Narcissa asked desperately, while her son remained mute with incomprehension.

Oh yes, that's right, I had forgotten. I discovered that he was a traitor. But rejoice, I killed him.

Immediately, Narcissa collapsed in tears, while Draco blinked in confusion. His father couldn't be dead. Not when their last exchange had been insults. However, his mother's reaction left no doubt. Visibly annoyed by this outburst of emotions, Voldemort stood up and began to caress Narcissa's face. Then, under Draco's horrified eyes, with his other hand, he firmly grasped one of the witch's breasts.

Come on, don't cry Narcissa. His treachery does not tarnish the esteem I have for you. I told you not to cry. Endoloris!

She writhed in pain for several minutes. Draco's brain couldn't comprehend the scene he was witnessing. By reflex, he adopted the attitude of cold indifference that his upbringing had conditioned him to feign in public. His gaze remained fixed on the events, unable to look away.

You should rather think about how to serve your master in a way that makes me forget the actions of your dear husband.

Voldemort made a great effort to push back the repulsion he felt at touching another human being and began to remove Narcissa's bra. She pretended to resist then he murmured:

You wouldn't want anything to happen to Draco, would you? After all, like father, like son.

Under the helpless gaze of her son, she let it happen. At the moment, she felt nothing. She felt as if cut off from her own emotions. She barely understood what was happening. After what seemed to her like an infinitesimal amount of time, the brutal back and forth stopped, and she felt a warm liquid running between her thighs. Then she was brutally thrown to the ground, as if she were just a simple object. As tears began to run down Narcissa's cheeks, Voldemort left, smiling.

Narcissa did not know it, but he had done her a great honor. Thought Voldemort. She was the first with whom he lowered himself to such a bestial act. Nevertheless, despite his disgust, he had to keep the promise he had made to the dying corpse of his former right-hand man. He had certainly thought about killing them, but death was far too gentle a punishment. He would personally ensure that Lucius's precious family suffered for a very long time. And when they had lost all hope, then they would kill them. Their fate would serve as a warning to the next who might consider betraying him. Regardless of their rank or usefulness, all must learn to fear Lord Voldemort.

That night, while most families in England were having a sleepless night waiting for news of their loved ones and fearing a new attack, Voldemort fell asleep with a smile on his lips. Everything was going according to hisplans. Almost. He would never have imagined that the traitor was Lucius or that Dumbledore could survive his trap. However, everything would soon be back in order. The lemony one had finally reached his limits and without his precious order, he could do nothing against him. And when he finally defeats him, no one would look down on him anymore.

Draco, for his part, fell asleep with his heart full of a new feeling. For the first time in his life, he knew what hatred and the desire for revenge truly were.

oOoOoOo

Author's note: From its initial version, this chapter was hard, but in its rewritten version, I find it horrible. To the point that I hesitated to keep it.

Originally, this chapter and the one where he tortures Nott Junior were the only ones where Voldemort appeared. All the others talked about the situation in the world and the actions of Nott and Draco's gang. Initially, this chapter was meant to quickly show Voldemort's psychology and how much of a monster he is. And in it, we didn't dwell on what the characters felt. Originally in this chapter (and in the others), I just described what was happening without dwelling on what the characters thought. But for the sake of consistency when I modified the other chapters, I also had to modify this one. But upon rereading, I found the result needlessly shocking.

I then wondered if I should remove this incident. But I finally decided to keep it, because without it, it would be difficult to explain the survival of the Malfoys and Draco's actions in the following chapters. In short, it would have required too many changes to the story.

I hope this chapter did not displease you and I promise that it is the last one that is so shocking. Voldemort will continue to be horrible (and not just a little), but my writing will be less so. Which doesn't mean that the next chapters will all be cheerful either. (far from it)

A peaceful night

Author's note: In the previous chapter, Voldemort returns to Malfoy Manor and announces to Narcissa and Draco that he has just killed Lucius. Then he forces Narcissa to have sexual relations with him by threatening to harm Draco if she refuses. What interests Voldemort is not the sexual act (on the contrary, touching another human being disgusts him), but the act of dominating/humiliating/punishing the Malfoys. In response, Draco vows to avenge his mother.

oOoOoOo

It was past midnight when Peter finally managed to enter the tent bristling with high-level protection spells and flanked by no less than four guards located at the center of the camp that the rescue team had improvised on the outskirts of the stadium. The calm that reigned inside the tent struck Peter, who had just emerged from the frenetic bustle that animated the outside despite the late hour. Inside, one could barely hear the regular rustling of some mysterious silver devices. Wand raised, Peter advanced with a falsely confident step towards the bed in the center of the room. There was no source of light, but as he approached the phoenix perched above the bed with a sad look, it seemed to him as if he could see as in broad daylight. As a result, he could not miss his target. In the center of the room, his back supported by a dozen cushions, was Dumbledore:

Cough! Cough! If you have other messages from Voldemort, I ... Huff! Cough! Cough! ... I'm afraid you are slightly too late. Huff! Cough! Cough! Cough!

Peter remains paralyzed with terror. Listening to the rumors within the camp, he had expected to find him diminished. But nothing could have prepared him for the pitiful state in which he found Dumbledore. His long, characteristic beard had disappeared along with his hair, and in some places, his skin seemed to tear off in patches. But what really frightened Peter would have gone unnoticed by any mediwizard. For the first time, Dumbledore's gaze conveyed nothing particular. No mischief, no impression that his soul had been x-rayed or that a phenomenal power was about to crush you. Just a sick man on the verge of leaving. It couldn't be Dumbledore. There had been a mistake somewhere.

On the other hand, if you came to kill me, you arrive just in time. Managed to add Dumbledore when his cough gave him a bit of respite.

The calm tone of certainty with which he had pronounced this sentence awakened Peter. He no longer had any doubt about the identity of the sick person. He did not know many men capable of uttering such a terrible phrase without the slightest trace of fear in their voice.

Don't say things like that. You're going to make it. I heard the mediwizards say they found a cure for the curse. Peter lied nervously as he began to fluff the pillows to hide the trembling of his hands and brought to the forefront of his mind his memory of the argument between two mediwizards about iodine that he had witnessed every time he met Dumbledore's gaze. But he quickly lost hope of feeling a mind challenge his occlumency barriers. Instead, between two fits of coughing, Dumbledore began to cry, murmuring in a small pleading voice:

No, mercy, I can't take it anymore. I want to stop. I want to leave.

Don't say that. You're not going to let a little curse bring you down. You are the greatest wizard of all time. We need you.

I can't anymore. I tried. I'm too old. I miss them so much.

Peter wanted to reply again, but his protests died in his mouth when Dumbledore took his hand. Despite his weakness, he put all the energy he had left into maintaining this simple contact. Peter squeezed it and seemed to relax.

You want me to call someone. Peter searched for the name of a close acquaintance of Dumbledore. But he realized he didn't know any. In desperation, he blurted out:

McGonagall maybe.

No, please stay. I don't want to be alone. Pleaded the old man between two coughing fits.

Peter held his hand in silence for what seemed like an eternity. Watching him become weaker and weaker as the night gave way to the pale rays of dawn. It was at this moment that the silver devices arranged around his bed chose to start beeping frantically. Peter quickly withdrew his hand. This racket would soon attract the guards or the mediwizards, and it was imperative that no one found him here.

But Dumbledore used his last strength to beckon him closer. Nervously, Peter pressed his ear against his face and listened to him murmur:

You must not make the same mistakes as me. I beg you, you must try to save Harry. The power that the Dark Lord ignores is love. That is the solution. Please save him and tell him that I am sorry.

You decided to trust me after all? Why?

Because of... Cough! Cough! Information f... Cough! Cough! Because of Nott. Why did you betray the Death Eaters?

Because of Nott?

On this last cryptic exchange, Dumbledore smiled one last time, then he slumped completely against the pillows, at peace for the first time in decades. Fawkes began to sing and the volume generated by the devices quintupled. Peter transformed back just before a horde of mediwizards entered the tent. He fled while the oldest of the mediwizards asked the nurse assisting him for the time of death.

As he ran at full speed through the camp, Peter's sadness turned into anger.

The key is love. And why not the key is chocolate frogs? Damn selfish old nutcase. What does he want me to do all alone against the most powerful dark wizard of all time?

With bitterness, Peter told himself that he might try to serve him. After all, every time he chose to help one of the camps, he inadvertently led to its downfall. Clearly, he was the worst traitor in the history of humanity. Not even capable of betraying correctly.

The dawn of the black sun

Timidly, the sun began to rise over Malfoy Manor, spreading its rays and warmth over the peaceful exotic creatures that Lucius had accumulated over the years to satisfy the various whims of his son. They rose, delighted to enjoy a new day roaming freely in the magnificent estate, completely unaware of the torments of their young master who contemplated the park while practicing to suppress his emotions behind his nascent Occlumency shields. An hour ago, he had woken up with a start, finally fully aware of what had happened the day before. His father was dead, and his assassin was now sleeping in his bed. And the last thing he had told him was that he never wanted to see him again. Why did his father have to give in to his whim once again? A shiver ran through him, and the pony shaking itself in a fountain moved away trembling. Then Draco began to feel an intense discomfort, as if an extremely foul odor had spread in the room. Except that his room continued to be filled with the lavender scent of the cleaning product used by the elves.

Thanks to the various war stories his father had told him, he understood that the dark lord had risen and was not happy. He had to face the facts: Nott senior was right. He was just a weak and cowardly child, completely incapable of facing his responsibilities as head of the Malfoy house. He absolutely had to find a way to avoid having to face the owner of such a dark and intense aura that it managed to tarnish the brilliance of the rising sun. Only now that his father was no longer there, Draco had little hope that the world would continue to submit to his desires.

Voldemort, for his part, was examining the half-terrified, half-resigned face of the Death Eater he had been surprised to find kneeling at the foot of his bed upon waking a few seconds earlier. Voldemort understood that the man was not a threat and lowered his wand while calming his magic. Or rather, the poor magic of his host and the almost infinite magic of the relics he was now able to summon almost reflexively.

What are you doing here, Peter? How did you get past the protections?

What protections, my lord? Asked the rat with a fearful look.

Voldemort examined the protective spells and alarms he had set around the room before going to sleep the previous night. All were intact. Voldemort then realized that he hadn't thought to protect himself from the animagus and was surprised to understand that despite Lucius's betrayal, he still instinctively trusted him (at least as much as Voldemort was capable of trusting another human being). It was strange but not undeserved, he thought. After all, the rat was the only one of his Death Eaters who had remained faithful to him and served him when he was still a powerless fragment of soul. Pity! If he weren't so weak and pathetic, he might have had some esteem for the rat (at least as much as Voldemort was capable of feeling for another human being).

Forget it, it's not important, what are you doing here? Isn't it obvious that your lord needed rest after yesterday's events?

Forgive me, my lord, but I thought you would want to know without delay that I have just witnessed the death of Dumbledore. From now on, nothing will stand in the way of your omnipotence.

An expression of intense surprise appeared on the youthful face. For a few moments, he had the impression that James's son had resurfaced. But very quickly, an expression of wild joy erased it.

Show me. Ordered Voldemort as he began to enter his mind without delicacy.

Once his red eyes, similar to X-rays, had finished examining his soul, a terrifying laugh escaped from his mouth.

You especially wanted to be the first to tell me. Even though I appreciate your diligence, I could just as well have learned it from the newspaper. Anyway, you're right, you couldn't have given me greater pleasure, but it would be selfish to keep this good news just for myself. Hold out your arm.

Docilely, Peter revealed his sleeve and presented the mark to his master. Voldemort touched it and immediately Peter felt an intense burning. A few seconds later, Voldemort entered the immense ballroom of the manor and like a king, he parted the nervous crowd of his followers who had hastily gathered upon feeling the call (dragging Wormtail in his wake). Everyone watched him sit on the throne that had been placed at the center of the stage usually reserved for musicians and other entertainments that enlivened the evenings organized by the Malfoys, wondering if they would survive this meeting. Everyone was now aware of Lucius's betrayal and all dreaded facing the predictable anger and suspicions that were sure to fall upon them. Nevertheless, it was with a joyful voice (as joyful as Voldemort's life could be) that he announced:

Good. I am pleased to see that none of you had any difficulty responding to this summons. However, this raises a question. Why did none of you think it necessary to inform me of Dumbledore's death?

Immediately, an immense commotion filled the room. Some showed their relief at living one more day, others the hope that the war would soon end in their victory, but all displayed intense joy. All except one:

My master, I fear that some ambitious ones have deceived you. Dumbledore is still alive. Declared Bellatrix with a mad look.

Quickly, she performed a wand movement that triggered the radio broadcast in the room, which her sister Narcissa had taught her during a particularly boozy New Year's Eve (it was long before Azkaban finished driving her mad). Dumbledore's voice then resonated in the room.

I am extremely grateful to all of you for coming here. On that note, are you sure none of you would like a lemon drop before we start this press conference? No! What a pity. Nevertheless, you are probably right. The situation is serious and we must not waste any more time. If I have summoned you today, it is to announce that despite our disagreements, I have decided, as president of the Wizengamot, to officially appoint Miss Umbridge to the position of Minister of Magic and to grant her full powers….

Wormtail, who had naturally positioned himself next to Voldemort, turned considerably pale upon hearing the beginning of this speech. However, this only provoked a great burst of malicious laughter from Voldemort.

Lucius was right to praise Umbridge's qualities to me.

At the mention of the traitor's name, all conversations ceased and a leaden silence, only broken by the remainder of the speech composed of hollow phrases calling the wizarding community to rally behind its new leader, fell over the room.

But she has chosen her side and all her scheming will change nothing. Dumbledore is dead and by the end of the day, this country will be at my feet.Bellatrix, unless you wish to follow in your brother-in-law's footsteps, I would ask you not to bother me with unverified information anymore. Wormtail here has chosen of his own accord to sacrifice his night to bring me this firsthand information. And although his blood is as pitiful as his person, his lineage has never given me any reason to doubt his loyalty. Can you say the same?

But my lord...

Enough. This is clearly a crude manipulation aimed at asserting the legitimacy of what remains of this corrupt ministry and reassuring the horde of blood-tainted parasites who relied on this old fool to ensure their protection against the wizarding people who have chosen to rise up and restore the greatness of our nation. My dear Death Eaters, rejoice, for the time has finally come. Today, we take back our country. Today, your king invites you to the celebration, be ready!

Apart from Wormtail, who recalled a cinema session Petunia had imposed on Harry during the summer he spent with them in his rat form, none flinched upon hearing this speech and all cheered their lord. Half an hour later, it was an army of Death Eaters who had regained confidence in their leader that apparated into the strangely deserted ministry reception hall. On their master's orders, they marched behind him, wands in hand, in perfectly aligned rows as he strode up the long hall leading to the elevators. Initially terrifying and perfectly ordered, their march dispersed to become quite ridiculous when it became evident to everyone that the building was devoid of any spectators. Voldemort seemed increasingly angry as he entered the premises and found everything empty and destroyed. When they finally reached the top of the building occupied by the Minister of Magic's offices (without encountering any resistance), waves of pure hatred emanated from him.

My lord, it is a great victory. Congratulations. The ministry belongs to you. Tried to appease him, Wormtail, realizing he was the only one who would dare to speak to him (he was indeed a Gryffindor, after all)

Idiot. Did you take me for a real estate agency? What do you want me to do with empty premises? Does any one of you know what's going on?

Bellatrix saw in Wormtail's silence an opportunity to regain her place as the favorite, undermined by Lucius's reprehensible behavior.

My lord, Umbridge has ordered the relocation of the ministry inside Hogwarts.

And you couldn't tell me sooner? Crucio!

Voldemort left Bellatrix prostrate on the ground and sat in the minister's office. This young body in the large Victorian-style solid wood chair, clearly intended to impress the visitor, seemed comically out of place. However, none of them let on the slightest smile as they discreetly left, understanding that their leader wished to think in peace. Voldemort, for his part, could not calm down he had expected to be able to eliminate his last opponents within the government and convince the others to submit. Then, he would have placed an obedient puppet at the head of the ministry and would have completed the work started by Lucius by placing a mole loyal to his cause in each department to establish a climate of terror and suspicion at the heart of the ministry, which would have ensured that his orders were followed to the letter.

In theory, he could still carry out his plan. He could gather the Dementors and the Death Eaters and launch an assault on Hogwarts. However, his troops were still very limited, and Hogwarts was an extremely well-protected fortress. Not to mention that Umbridge and what remained of the Order (if there was anything left) had had a lot of time to prepare their defenses. Even with his new powers, he could only hope for a Pyrrhic victory if he attacked now. And such a brutal plan was unworthy of the heir of Slytherin.

After a few moments of reflection, he stopped his plan. Umbridge soon realized that she was no match for him.

oOoOoOoOo

Author's note: For those who don't know, a 'Pyrrhic victory' is an expression that refers to a victory won at such a heavy cost to the victor that it is almost equivalent to a defeat. The expression comes from the King of Macedonia: Pyrrhus, who had to retreat after a victory against the young and too ambitious for his taste Roman Republic, because his troops had been too decimated during the battle.

Press Brief 2

Hello, you are on BBC One and it is 12:00. The main story of this news broadcast is, of course, the terrible attacks that struck England yesterday. An initial report states 100,000 dead and 300,000 injured, but the list keeps growing and does not account for the number of irradiated people. The Minister of Health estimates that the number of deaths could double by the end of the week. Now, a report by Ludovic Picard in the heart of the city of Manchester.

Immediately, the image switched to an aerial view of the city of Manchester.

As you can see, calm has returned to the city of Manchester and evacuations have been able to start calmly. Unfortunately, the city's hospitals remain overwhelmed by the number of people arriving complaining of symptoms related to radiation poisoning. Here, everyone is eagerly awaiting the arrival of reinforcements promised by the rest of the European Community. In the meantime, the residents are organizing as best they can and are making up for the lack of resources with touching acts of spontaneous solidarity like that of Jocelyne, 85 years old.

The image of an old lady in front of her house appeared.

Oh well you know when I saw those poor people who had to flee their home it shocked me. It reminded me of that time in '45 when I had to flee the Judeo-Bolshev...

Yes, quite a beautiful story of a woman living on a mountain spared from radiation for the moment, who did not hesitate to open the door of her house to refugees. Tell me, weren't you afraid to welcome strangers into your home? Interrupted the journalist, starting to sweat.

What do you want them to do to me at my age? On the contrary, they can only do me good. You know, since my Jules left, I feel alone in this big empty house. Have I ever told you about Jules? He was, ...

Yes, Madam. You have already mentioned it to me 5 times, a final word to conclude.

Yes, I still have plenty of empty rooms in my house, so we can accommodate people. As long as they are not black...

THANK YOU, MADAM, FOR THIS INSPIRING CALL FROM THE HEART. Shouted the journalist to mask the rest of Jocelyne's response.

The report ended with a fade to black, then the news studio reappeared.

Now a brief overview of the initial elements of the investigation by Anias Vonevequa.

Another report starting with images of NATO's European headquarters began and a female voice commented:

After analyzing the seismic waves and radionuclides emitted during the explosion, the NATO spokesperson states that it is a Topol SS-25. A Soviet bomb of 800 kilotons manufactured in abundance by the Soviet Union before 1980. The Russian Federation had reported on July 25 the disappearance of about ten of its warheads during their transfer to a dismantling center controlled by the UN. Of course, the Russian Federation denies any involvement in the tragedy that struck the Manchester region and proposes to send its units specialized in nuclear risk management.

At the same time, other investigations have been launched on the events in London. In a press release, the Mayor of London, John Major, denounced the images of London as a crude and very tasteless forgery before calling on the British to remain united in these difficult times. A national unity government will meet tomorrow to decide on the measures totake against the Al-Qaeda group which is the main suspect in organizing the August 11 attacks.

The image switched back to the reporter.

Thank you Anias, in other news, an electrical incident in the Eurostar tunnel has caused the cancellation of all trains to Paris. Now a report from Lize-alflraid Courbet.

It was this morning, upon arriving at the international station of Saint-Pancras, that Patrick had an unpleasant surprise:

Damn, but I'm fed up with being held hostage!

You say that because you're afraid the cancellations are due to terrorists?

Worse, strikers. I'm French, you know, I know them well, the reds. I'm sure they did it on purpose so that I would be late for the destructive brainstorming meeting. And then, people wonder why this country is going down the drain.

Fortunately, not everyone reacts so violently. Tell me, sir, how do you manage to stay calm?

Oh you know me, I'm still on vacation so I take it all philosophically. It's not a big deal if I'm late. As long as I get home before night.

Do you really think you will find a way to leave the country while the ferry drivers' strike continues and the flight bans imposed by the government continue to block airplanes?

You know, when someone tells me it's hopeless, I think of the lobsters in the Titanic's aquarium.

The report was interrupted and the presenter's image reappeared.

A very nice way to close this journal. We wish him a good trip and to all of you a good day.

Exodus 1

Even though Fred had fully recovered from his injuries, he remained lying catatonically on his hospital bed, staring at the sky. In any case, the mediwizards seemed to have more trouble finding body bags than available beds. And even so, they had far too much work to take care of him. Indeed, despite his state of shock, Fred had noticed the inexplicable frenzy that seemed to have taken over the camp for the past few hours.

Anyway, he didn't care. In fact, since waking up, he didn't care about anything. Not even his hunger, he thought, glancing at the still untouched bowl of porridge that a nurse had quickly placed in front of his bed that morning. Yet, he jumped for joy when the curtain that had been set up to give him some privacy was pulled back. But his enthusiasm immediately faded. For a few seconds, he had the impression that the redhead who had just entered was George, but it was only Percy. He should have known. His twin would never have worn such a serious expression.

Fred, are you doing well?

He forced himself to smile and replied with a wink:

More cancerous than me, tumor.

Fred! How can you be so... Rah! Mom and dad are dead and you...

Percy's face was so red with anger that his red hair seemed quite dull in comparison. As every time he did something foolish in his presence, Percy wasted his time stammering a moralizing sermon that Fred made a point of ignoring (it's nice to see that some things would never change). Instead, he examined Percy's face ravaged by dark circles. It seemed he hadn't slept much last night.

Fred, are you listening to me?Percy suddenly demanded, which had the merit of bringing Fred out of his thoughts.

You need to get rid of the bad habit of always wanting to be listened to, replied Fred.

Obviously, you don't listen to anything. You never listen to anything. You know what? It serves you right for what happened to you. It's all your fault. If you had done what you were told, Ginny would never have been in danger, and the parents would never have gotten involved in this stupid order. Just once in your life, couldn't you follow the rules? But no, for you, it's all a game and you always have to do only what you like. But it's not a problem, since Mom or that pushover Percy is there to fix the mess. Well, Percy is fed up!

For the first time after a reproach from Percy, Fred remained silent. He was torn between wanting to punch him in the face and wanting to hang his head in shame. Even though he was convinced that Percy's reproaches were odious, they still reactivated his guilt. Fred had spent part of last night replaying their last day together in his head, wondering what had gotten into them. Fred knew they had messed up and all of Percy's reproaches couldn't make him feel any more guilty.

Defeated, he decided to collapse against his ears with a sigh:

What do you want?

That you behave like an adult. At least until I manage to get you and Ginny out of the country. After that, it won't be my problem anymore, but Bill's.

And you?

I'm staying. Umbridge appointed me as Undersecretary of State in her place and she counts on me to ...

So I will stay too. I can fight too. We must avenge Mom and Dad and ...

No way. You're not even of age.

What's the difference of one year? If you think I'm going to hide in your robes while You-Know-Who ... ?

But think a little before acting like an idiot! What do you think you can do against a Death Eater? You weren't even able to get your OWL in Defense Against the Dark Arts. All you're going to accomplish is getting yourself killed.

Unlike you, I am not a coward.

And Ginny, have you thought about it? Who's going to take care of her when you're not there anymore? Me, maybe? Don't you think you're the coward for abandoning her to go off on an adventure? Seeing that this last argument had finally reached his stubborn little brother, Percy continued more gently:

Listen, we don't have time for this anymore. It's only a matter of time before Potter manages to repair the magical transportation control service. I need to take you and Ginny to Hogwarts before he takes control of the Floo Network.

With an imposing air he had learned to perfect during the years he had tried to impose his authority as head prefect on the other students (despite the humiliating pranks the twins regularly subjected him to), Percy helped Fred up and dragged him in hospital pajamas to the nearest fireplace in front of which dozens of stretchers of patients were obviously waiting for transfer like them.

Percy approached one of the guards and showed him his papers. With an annoyed gesture, the guard told him to move forward. Without any shame, Percy passed in front of the long line of patients in more or less good condition and their relatives (turned into nurses for the occasion), who did not hesitate to give him dark looks. Some even dared a few insults. Percy paid no attention, as his shell forged by years of living with the twins was thick (it was a miracle that Penelope had managed to break it). However, for the last representative of the very popular prankster twins gang and star Gryffindor beater, it was an extremely unpleasant novelty.

What are all these people doing here?

The same thing as us. He is trying to evacuate before the place turns into a battlefield. But that will not be the case. Umbridge has ordered the abandonment of the place to Potter and to focus on the defense of Hogwarts and its surroundings. She hopes to thus force him to negotiate.

YOU WANT TO NEGOTIATE WITH... Fred protested indignantly.

Shh, be quiet! It doesn't thrill me any more than it does you, but it's the choice of the Minister of Magic, Percy explained.

Dumbledore is going …

With an annoyed look at his brother's ignorance, Percy interrupted him:

Dumbledore is dead then …

WHAT!?

Speak more quietly. Do you want to cause a panic or what?

Fred let himself be led, completely demoralized. How could they face this monster without Dumbledore?

He barely noticed that they had arrived at the burrow where Aunt Muriel greeted them by asking what had taken them so long. After some insincere polite exchanges, Percy took a strangely obedient Ginny and led them to Hogwarts. However, once at Hogwarts, nothing went as Percy had hoped. And it started from the moment he arrived.

Sir, stop! Called out an official who was guarding the entrance to the wing of Hogwarts that had been reserved for Umbridge's accommodation and her closest collaborators.

What is it? Do you know who I am? Percy replied with an authoritative tone that brooked no argument.

Of course, Mr. Secretary of State. Besides, I haven't congratulated you yet on your lightning-fast promotion. I hope you will deny the rumors that you got the position only because you were the only one who stayed working at your desk rather than listening to the match on the radio or trying to get news of your loved ones. I'm sure you owe it to your skills and not to a mix of luck and other less honorable things. The official replied haughtily, bowing before continuing in a honeyed voice:

But you know the rules as well as I do and despite the move, they remain in effect. At least until I receive an exemption decree B36. Pointing at Fred and Ginny, he continued in a dull voice:

As a result, I regret to inform you that no visitor can enter the minister's department without the A28 form completed with the 12 signatures of ...

Yes, I am aware, Jensen. Percy interrupted, taking out of his jacket an orange form covered with so many official stamps that the text underneath had become illegible. Here it is. As you can see, everything is in ord... Why are you crying, Jensen?

It's nothing, sir, sniff. I... It's the first time I've seen one. It's so beautiful. Would you please give it to me? They replied with an emotional voice between tears.

Oh, yes naturally.

Oh! Thank you, sir. I will have it framed and I will show it to my grandchildren when I am old. Replied the official visibly moved by so much generosity.

For the first time in his life, Percy wondered if the ministry wasn't a bit too bureaucratic. In any case, from that day on and for the first time in his life, most of the people he met showed him genuine respect. The difference from the false politeness mixed with jealousy and resentment that he was usually addressed with struck him, and from that day, he began to critically examine his memories of adolescence. Especially those following the arrival of the twins at Hogwarts.

However, despite his new authority and his most cunning attempts, he fails to procure international portkeys. Early in the morning, Potter had cast a spell blocking any exit from the country except with international portkeys created before the incantation of his barrier. Upon learning this, Umbridge had personally requisitioned the last ones they had left, and none of her flattery managed to soften his icy heart. And he was not foolish (or desperate) enough to think that giving in to her advances would help him. He would do anything not to have to share with Fred the tinyquarters that had been assigned to him next to Umbridge's office. When handing him the keys to his new quarters, Umbridge had made it clear that he could visit her at any hour of the night without fear of being noticed... Percy didn't want to think about that moment and preferred to believe that he had imagined the innuendos of the new Minister of Magic.

In short, anything but that. He had no choice but to hope that without George, Fred would be more bearable. Percy spent every free moment he could find trying to get Fred a job. As he had said himself, in the current situation what did it matter that he was a year away from being of age and having the right to work? And above all, Percy didn't want him to get used to doing nothing and living off him. Since he had started working and earning a good living, it had become a pressing concern for him, as the twins seemed destined to remain social misfits. And if he wanted to have any hope of finding his belongings in one piece in the evening, it was better for Fred to have something to do during the day.

As for Ginny, he trusted her not to do anything foolish. At least not anything too serious. He loved his little sister and despite the circumstances, he hoped she would make a few mistakes before growing up too quickly. She had been the only one to sympathize with him about the bad jokes the twins played on him.

Ron too to a certain extent, but Ron... In any case, as he grew up, Ron had distanced himself somewhat from this too serious older brother whom the parents entrusted with watching his younger siblings when they had to be away. His parents couldn't afford to pay a nanny and his other older brothers had fled abroad, so very early on, he had to lend a hand to his mother who was completely overwhelmed by the twins to take care of Ron and Ginny, Percy recalled bitterly.

oOoOoOoOoOo

Author's note: This is probably not a very popular opinion, but even if they don't reach the level of cruelty of the Marauders towards Snape, I find that the jokes the twins play on Percy (without their parents being able to intervene) are unfair and not funny. Nothing extraordinary between brothers, and it is largely implied that Percy has his faults, but precisely, it is only implied. We never see Percy do anything wrong before the 4th year when he shows himself to be a bit too much of a sycophant towards his boss (who in return can't even remember his name). On the other hand, we see the twins steal his things and humiliate him in public (very slightly). In return, Percy does nothing wrong to the twins. He doesn't even try to abuse his prefect power to get back at them. He continues to treat them fairly (as far as we can see).

For me, Percy is a more positive character than the twins. At least he acknowledges his mistakes and tries to make amends.

Author's note 2: At first, I wanted Fred to say: "If you've never seen a form A38, how can you know it's one?" with the sole purpose of mocking the official and preventing Percy from getting too full of himself and acting like a big shot with him. But I would have had trouble continuing the story after that, and Fred isn't supposed to be stupid enough to say that kind of thing in this type of context.

Proofreader's note: To be honest, and it's quite sad, the twins take out on Percy what their parents did to them. Throughout the books, we can see that they are not allowed to invite friends, whereas their brothersElders and younger siblings, yes. We can see that neither Molly nor Arthur is capable of recognizing them separately, and a glaring example, in the Order of the Phoenix, is when Molly congratulates Ron on being a prefect, like all his brothers before him. Fred's reply is, "And what are we, next-door neighbors?" Basically, they take revenge and humiliate Percy, or even Ron, because their parents have shown that the twins disappointed them compared to the others. It's childish but it comes from higher up, because they were never good enough to be Weasleys. Harry is almost more appreciated by the Weasley parents throughout the books, and the only time we really see the parents' love for the twins is at Fred's death...

Exodus 2

We can no longer wait, we must leave. Complained Nott while closing the curtain of the cottage window.

Since the Quidditch World Cup final, the wizards responsible for their protection had all gone on a mission and never returned. At first, they hadn't worried. Their hideout had enough canned pumpkin pâté to withstand a siege without resupply (though after a week of eating only that, he would have killed just to see another dish). Then Nott had felt the spells cast by Dumbledore weakening. However, the weeks passed, September began, and with it came hooded men who regularly appeared near their home. So far, they hadn't tried to cross the perimeter, but the information they received from the ancient wizarding radio in the cottage didn't reassure them.

Normally, Nott wouldn't have paid any attention to the nonsense broadcasted in his news bulletins supervised by the ministry, but it was obvious that something serious had happened on the day of the World Cup. Whatever had happened that day, it had been serious enough for the broadcast to be cut off for several days.

First replaced by an uninterrupted musical background and then outright by the most distressing white noise. Especially when you had no other distraction than watching the food supplies dwindle before your eyes.

Briefly, the broadcast had resumed to air a call from Dumbledore to gather at Hogwarts. But quickly, the broadcast was interrupted again. Then, 3 days later, the broadcast suddenly resumed. Nott first felt relief when he heard the announcer calmly state that with the help of the international magical community, the English Ministry of Magic had regained control of the territory and would very quickly restore order in the country. Then he panicked when she triumphantly announced that there was nothing more to fear because from now on, Harry Potter himself would ensure their protection. Reflexively, he turned off the radio with a violent punch, and even though the big Muggle's face turned red, no one held it against him (in any case, he wouldn't have accepted a Muggle criticizing his behavior).

In the days that followed, the station contented itself with spewing out stories as epic as they were phantasmagoric, where Dumbledore, Potter, Malfoy, and the other pure-blood families set aside their differences to fight together against the evil that had struck their country. Once the battle was over, the evil had been pushed back, but not defeated. The survivors then rallied behind the one who, against all odds, had once again survived. It was a very painful listening experience however, they continued to subject themselves to it, because the rare times when the airwaves were not cluttered with tales glorifying the new leader and his exceptional talents despite his young age, they obtained snippets of information about what was happening outside. It was not a very effective method for staying informed, but as long as they refused to go out, they would not have a better one.

The old f... Your director said we should stay inside. Have some respect for your elders, young man. Vernon Dursley intervened to put an end to the boy's continual whining.

He couldn't believe that his son could have become friends with such a budding thug. Yet, that was what that witch in the clothes had claimed.eccentric when she had brought him a few weeks ago. To his great regret, Vernon had acquired some experience over the years in identifying troublemakers.

Indeed, it was rare for sons from good families to apply for a factory line worker job in his plant. And when it did happen, it was invariably an idealist who, after a few days, would go back to begging mom and dad to get him a connection for some administration job tasked with taxing or hindering honest entrepreneurs like him. Instead, he had to deal with drug addicts, young school dropouts, ex-convicts, single women, ... In short, all the social cases of the region (and to his great shame, a few undocumented immigrants).

Eventually, he had come to be able to differentiate at a glance the troublemakers from those who could be useful to him provided they were subjected to strict discipline (author's note: you can feel the lousy boss fond of toxic management). The eyes are a window to the soul, and Vernon had become an expert in the art of breaking down the different emotions visible in them. In most people, Vernon saw a clever mix of hatred, resignation, and sometimes hope. To his greatest pride, despite the trials he had been through, his son's gaze had never contained anything but love. But that of this Theodore Nott was filled with an anger he had never seen even in his employees with heavy criminal records.

Despite all his warnings, his wife had tried numerous times to make contact with the troubled teenager. She wanted at all costs to get news of Harry and he seemed to be the last one to have spoken to him. To Vernon's great despair, she still believed it would be possible to save Harry. She was convinced that something special had happened before he forcibly pulled her from that burning house. That she had established some sort of connection with the spirit of their imprisoned son. But for Vernon, all this was just nonsense from a woman with an overly developed maternal instinct.

It was for this kind of naivety that he loved her, but if she didn't quickly return to reality, she would end up getting them killed. Although sometimes, Vernon wondered if that wouldn't be better. The only thing that kept him from breaking down in tears at the thought of losing their two sons was precisely that he refused to think about it. Yet nothing reminded him more of the situation than Petunia's desperate attempts to save their son. She was convinced that if she could find a way to spend enough time with him without him killing her, then she could free him. The denials from Dumbledore or all the wizards who had taken turns ensuring their protection hadn't changed anything.

Silence, Muggle, do not speak of what is beyond you. Nott replied with annoyance.

Théo! Justin protested as he did every time he showed contempt towards them.

Even though Justin also found the Dursleys particularly annoying and did not understand the affection Harry showed them (especially with the suspicions he had about how they treated him), he could tolerate less and less his friend's behavior towards them. Not to mention that he did not hide that he was largely motivated by racist ideas that he refused to abandon against all odds.

Justin did not understand how someone as stubborn and incapable of concealment as Nott could have been sorted into Slytherin. For now, he had to accept the situation and resign himself to playing the mediator (or rather the policeman) between the Dursleys and the two Slytherins. Indeed, even if Blaise andThe Dursleys were not as oblivious as his friend regularly, without realizing it, they would make disparaging remarks that immediately offended the other side.

Justin still couldn't believe he had managed to stop them from tearing each other apart. If he had been cynical, he would have attributed this miracle of diplomacy to the fact that, as a true Slytherin, Blaise preferred talking to fighting. That since Vernon knew who the Finch-Fletchleys were, he had adopted an excessively obsequious attitude towards him and always found a way to bring the conversation back to the quality of the drills coming out of his factory and how much he dreamed of supplying his uncle's hardware store chain. Not to mention Nott's obsession with honor and the life debt he insisted on owing him. Justin would have almost taken the Slytherin's stammering when he announced it as a very touching (and rare) sign of gratitude, if he hadn't immediately added that since he was just a mudblood, he had better decide quickly what he wanted as payment and not be too demanding (thinking back, he missed a golden opportunity to have fun by replying that in exchange, he just wanted him to stop being such an idiot).

Nott replied calmly:

The first rule among the Notts is to never stay still. In a battle, there are those who flee, those who fight, and those who die. By staying here, we become easy targets. If we want to have a chance to escape the dark lord, we must keep constantly moving.

The second is to kill the Muggles?

What do you mean, kill Muggles? Asked Vernon angrily.

Not to never be predictable.

It was sarcasm. Justin clarified.

Even if you are Muggle-born, you should realize that this is not the time to joke, criticized Nott.

With you, it's never the right time. Blaise attempted with a smile and a pat on Nott's shoulder in the hope of easing the atmosphere or transferring to him the nervousness that Nott was barely containing since their arrival at the cottage.

But Justin did not agree:

No, let's stop beating around the bush. I thought you didn't believe in that kind of nonsense anymore. Otherwise, can you tell me why you refused to join Vou... Voldemort?

As Justin expected, Blaise and Nott flinched upon hearing the cursed name. However, he was surprised to hear the house creak and to feel uncomfortable for a few seconds.

What was that? Shouted Petunia.

An idiot who should know that one does not take the Lord's name in vain. Shouted Nott on the verge of hysteria.

It's just a name. And it's not my lord. And not yours either, in case you forgot. Unless you have regrets? You know, if you bring him our heads and lick his feet enough, I'm sure he'll forgive you.

As soon as he had spoken his words, Justin regretted them.

I ... Sorry. I didn't mean to say that. I trust you, it's just that ...

Nott adopted an expression intended to be indifferent and interrupted him with the authoritative tone characteristic of men accustomed to being obeyed without question from a young age:

As usual, you are wrong, but be quiet and listen.

Justin's first instinct was to protest and Vernon's was to start yelling at him for his delinquent behavior (and to find out if Justin was right to fear he might betray them). But a new, louder crack than the others convinced them to follow his orders. Now that he was concentrating, Justin and Blaise could feel that something was wrong with the already weakened protections of the cottage. Then suddenly someone knocked on the door.

Open up! I know you're there.

Immediately, they took up combat positions in front of the door and ordered the Dursleys to hide in a closet. They wanted to refuse, but Nott's threatening look and the wand he pointed at them convinced them to obey. He slammed the closet door shut, ordering them to call Dobby at the slightest problem to get them out of there. Until now, they had avoided calling the elf for fear that his magic would trigger the trace and reveal their location to Voldemort and his followers. However, as Nott expected, it seemed that their enemies had found them despite their precautions.

Open up, it's an order! You have nothing to fear. I am the paterfamilias of this district. If you don't open, I will have to call reinforcements to break down this door.

Justin glanced at Nott, who shook his head negatively and tightened his grip on his wand, ready to fight. To everyone's surprise, it was Blaise who took the initiative to defuse the situation by positioning himself between Nott and the door to force him to hold back, then began to shout in his most childish voice:

I can't, sir. Mom told me not to open the door to anyone.

Are you all alone here? How old are you?

I am 14 years old, I can manage on my own.

I don't doubt it, my dear, listen, I suspect you did it without meaning any harm, but if it's forbidden to say You-Know-Who's name, it's because there's a reason. If I don't provide an explanation quickly, the Ministry will send men to search the area, and you're not the only wizarding family to have taken refuge here. Let me in, and I'll make sure to mitigate the punishment. You wouldn't want your mother to have problems because of you, would you?

No sir. But uh, it's that. Stammered Blaise, visibly searching for an excuse. I don't have the key. He said after misinterpreting Justin's whispered suggestions, who slapped his forehead in despair.

Alright, that's enough. He's alone, we're three. We knock him out, we interrogate him, and we get out of here. Murmured Nott.

Unless he's lying and, in reality, there are dozens ready to kill us as soon as we open that damn door, retorted Blaise.

All the more reason to attack first and benefit from the element of surprise. Retorted Nott.

Boy, who are you talking to? Reasoned the voice of the old man through the door.

To no one, sir, I'm thinking out loud. I do that when I'm nervous.

The old man behind the door sighed:

What is your name, my boy?

Alas, Blaise Zabini.

What? Added Blaise in front of the expression of the other two who couldn't believe he had given his real name.

By some miracle, the man behind the door did not seem to recognize his relatively famous surname.

Pleased to meet you. I'm Andrew Guzman, you know, I have a son your age. I suspect you must be scared and have no reason to trust me, but I assure you that I am not your enemy. Open up to me, explain the problem, and we'll find a solution together. You know, here, we don't care about those blood stories. All that is nonsense that those pure-blood parasites invent to screw us over. I'll bet you that the ancestors of those degenerates who think they're better than everyone else didn't hesitate to sleep with the mudblood servant or the half-blood gardener. Just look at their faces. Just two days ago, a fine specimen showed up in the region looking for his son. He had quite a nose. I wouldn't be surprised if there were a couple of goblins well hidden in the family tree.

Not counting the character. I always told myself there had to be at least one troll.

I should point out that you too are a pureblood. Nott murmured on the verge of an apoplexy while Justin struggled not to burst out laughing despite his anxiety about knowing that Nott senior was on their trail.

No, me, I'm an upstart, remember. Blaise replied sarcastically.

Nott hesitated for a few moments, then finally lowered his head and simply said:

I am. I am sorry.

Faced with his miserable look, Blaise couldn't help but pat him on the shoulder.

It's okay, it's not a big deal.

And what about me? Don't I deserve an apology too? asked Justin.

Do you think it's the right time? We need to decide what to do with him. Nott replied, pointing at the door.

For show, Justin rolled his eyes and adopted a sulky expression, which he immediately dropped when Nott suggested:

It's me they want. I will go out and offer to surrender if they let you go.

Are you crazy? exclaimed Justin.

It's out of the question. Blaise retorted.

Do you see another solution? The protections won't hold if they decide to force their way through, and as long as I'm with you, my father will hunt you down. I'm screwed no matter what, but if I'm not with you, maybe the dark lord will forget about you.

We're not even sure he was talking about your father, Justin reminded.

Do you really think it's a coincidence? Nott mocked.

For all we know, it could be a lie to scare us. Or to test us. Justin replied.

That did not seem to convince him, so Justin changed his angle of attack:

Anyway, do you think he will forget the Dursleys too?

They are Muggles and of the worst kind, moreover. Their fate is of no importance.

You know what, I'm starting to think I was wrong to believe we could be friends, Justin snapped.

If he felt any pain, Nott showed nothing and replied:

And you only understand it now? You can't save everyone. In a war, choices must be made.

And if I refuse to choose?

Then you will die.

Anyway, I'm going to die. In your opinion, what is the life expectancy of a mudblood like me out there?

Don't call yourself that. Nott replied in an almost plaintive voice.

Justin replied, stunned:

Why? In case you forgot, that's what I am.

Well now that it is established that we are all going to die, could we decide on the manner? I vote to die of old age on a white sandy beach after Dobby has transported us far from here. Blaise interrupted them.

Immediately, the elf appeared.

Master Potter's friend called Dobby.

No, but you come at the right time. My mother has a villa on the French Riviera. Can you transport us there? Us and the Dursleys?

No sir. Too many and too far for poor Dobby.

And one by one?

The path will exhaust Dobby, sir. And it will be dangerous. The Dark Lord has turned the sleeve into a magical barrier. Dobby doesn't know if he can pass.

Wow! Really? exclaimed Blaise, visibly admiring, under the disapproving gaze of Justin and Theodore.

Why would we run away? I'm sure there aren't many of them. In fact, I'm almost inclined to think he's telling us the truth and that he's alone. Dobby can probably apparate behind him and neutralize him, suggested Justin.

No! Haven't you ever wondered why there are few places protected against elf Apparition? Nott replied.

Because it's not possible? Justin suggested naively.

Of course it's possible. Otherwise, pure-bloods imprisoned in Azkaban would just have to call their elf for help to escape. Nott explained with a haughty tone.

Because wizards are so proud that they are unable to imagine that an elf could harm them. Attempted Justin, annoyed by the professorial tone taken by Nott.

As surprising as it may seem, my father would agree with you. He has always found that wizards are too negligent towards inferior races. But the real reason is that our ancestors were so afraid of the elves' power that they ensured they could not attack the wizard even if their master ordered them to. It's part of the enslavement spells... Nott stopped immediately upon realizing his mistake.

Dobby is a free elf, sir. But Dobby senses 4 wizards hiding behind the rocks. Dobby may not be able to defeat them all. And Master Potter would not have wanted Dobby to harm them. Master Potter was good and …

Yes, we understand. Blaise interrupted, not wanting to hear yet another list of the supposed qualities of the survivor interspersed with sobs. Then Blaise added:

Listen, this may seem naive to you, but I believe him when he says he means us no harm. Otherwise, why would he be waiting patiently without saying anything for us to decide to let him in? Death Eaters would have smashed the door down without a second thought.

Or the protection spells are too powerful for him and he doesn't want to call for backup and admit his incompetence to his superiors.

What if we took the risk anyway? Besides, do we have a better choice? Insisted Blaise.

If there are only 5 of them, we can beat them. Especially if Dobby attacks them from behind and we take them in a pincer movement. Nott replied.

And after? Where do you want to go? Countered Blaise.

Afterwards, we have to leave the country. Nott replied.

And how? You heard Dobby. You-Know-Who has blocked the borders. He needs our help.

And it's to them that you want to address yourself? Nott scoffed.

Do you see anyone else? Blaise replied calmly.

Nott and Justin thought about it, but the only idea that came to them was the Order of the Phoenix or Dumbledore. He did not believe the radio bulletins that claimed his death, but he had no idea how to contact him. The best thing would be to go to Hogwarts, but how could they know if it was still a safe place? At the same time, if Hogwarts wasn't safe, then what could be?

But he could not pursue his reflections further, for the man behind the door spoke again:

Blaise, have you finished talking to yourself? Even though I'm impressed by your ventriloquism skills, I'm afraid I can't wait all day. Listen, I'm neither an idiot nor a fighter. I suspect that if you've been hiding here all this time, there's a reason. And I don't want to find out which of us is stronger in a fight. Here's what I propose: you give us a big pile of galleons and in exchange, we'll let you go.

Papa, you are crazy! Interrupted the deep voice of a young man in his twenties behind the door.

Yes, but in a world that has lost its mind, it's a sign of good mental health.

They will kill you when they find out.

If they find out one day. We'll just say that we found the house empty when we arrived.

Do you really think they'll buy that?

Why not? The only way he would find out would be if one of you reported me.

Even through the door, they felt the atmosphere tense up.

Father. Please, don't do that. This is already the third time you've helped resistance fighters. If you keep it up, you're going to get caught.

Oh, but stop it already. They won't tear me a new one. Okay, since he's been hanging out with all those purebloods, he's become a bit of an idiot with those old traditions, but he's still the survivor. He's just going to declare that my blood isn't as pure as it seems and find another sucker to manage the area. Let me tell you: it's all smoke and mirrors. If he's revived the old traditions of the paterfamilias, it's not because he's become a purist. It's just that with all those traitors leaving for Hogwarts and those Muggle terrorists, there aren't enough officials or Aurors to keep the purebloods calm unless he makes a few concessions to them.

Some concessions!? Les Brown, were those concessions too?

You know as well as I do that it's not that simple. And then they were asking for it. I'll tell you again, I met Potter and he is nothing like the madman the resistance describes. Despite his young age, he has such charisma. If you had seen him too, you would know that we can trust him.

So why are you helping them?

I don't help resistance fighters. I help children avoid suffering the consequences of their parents' poor choices. In his mind, he added to himself that, moreover, it brought him a lot of galleons.

Mom is right, you are a real stubborn mule and I should never have come back here.

Is that it, and you would have starved at Hogwarts with the other traitors?

It might be better. At least I wouldn't have a heart attack every time someone knocks on the door.

Yes, well, it's only temporary. As soon as our savior finds the terrorists and smooths things over with the traitors of Hogwarts, I'm sure everything will be back in order. On that day, you'll see that I was right to stay here.

Then Andrew heard a gigantic explosion behind him followed by a terrible scream. Before he could understand what was happening, two teenagers burst through the door screaming and began to bombard him with "expelliarmus" spells, which he easily deflected with a negligent wave of his hand. For children their age, it wasn't bad, and they had the intelligence to focus on a basic spell suitable for their level, rather than attempting more advanced spells beyond their reach. However, his two opponents lacked power and clearly had no experience in a real fight (neither did he, for that matter). Probably, in an attempt to muster courage, they stuck together instead of spreading out and attacking him from multiple sides at once. Moreover, they shouted their spells at the top of their lungs, making it very easy to anticipate and counter them.

Whoever their assailant was, he couldn't seriously expect his two children to compete with an adult wizard. Those bastards must have sent them to the slaughter to serve as a diversion. Thought Andrew.

He erected a shield and then gestured to his son to stay defensive and wait for those two fools to tire themselves out before stunning them (if possible without harming them). Meanwhile, he would go deal with the main threat. He turned around and started running into the bushes where his men were hiding. Then he suddenly dropped to the ground to avoid a spell that flew in his direction. He swore as he felt pain appear in his knee, but it was a small price to pay to escape the black flash that had missed him by barely a few millimeters.

He got up to see two of his men engaged in a duel against what seemed to be another child. Except he was of a completely different caliber. He wasn't fighting, but dancing while murmuring a series of incantations that almost resembled a song.

Without thinking, he came to Stéphane's aid who was about to be hit by a spell that seemed particularly vicious. He cast his most powerful shield just in time and the spell shattered against it with a sound resembling a cry of agony. Clearly, it was a spell not approved by the ministry. But he didn't have time to worry about that. Seeing him arrive, his men regained hope. The young dark mage, however, seemed unfazed and continued to run around muttering spells, each darker than the last, which they struggled to dodge.

After the most exhausting 5 minutes of his life, Andrew had to admit the humiliating truth. Despite being 3, this pest was holding them off. However, their opponent couldn't keep up this pace for very long, and beads of sweat were already appearing on his forehead. By levitating a rock to protect himself from what looked like a simple Stupefy (the spells hesending were now simpler which confirmed to Andrew that he was getting tired), he wondered what had happened to his other men. But he suppressed this thought. If he wanted to win, he had to stay focused. Once this monster was neutralized, he would have all the time to worry about what had happened to his other subordinates (and possibly avenge them). Then to his surprise, their opponent shouted:

DOBBY!

Andrew was on his guard, but for a few seconds nothing happened (except for the spells his opponent sent at him). Then a violent magical impulse propelled Stéphane into the air, and he crashed unconscious against a tree.

Bastard! shouted Andrew, turning around convinced that the real opponent had been hiding all this time.

But all he saw was an elf writhing in pain on the ground. He then realized that in the heat of the moment, he had made a terrible mistake. He had turned his back on his enemy. However, it was already too late. He barely had time to see the Stunning Spell rushing at him before he was hit and fainted.

oOoOoOoOo

Once his last opponent was defeated, Nott cast a Hominum Revelio and allowed himself a sigh of relief upon seeing that the surroundings were empty, then immediately raised his head. He heard the echoes of another battle in the distance. In fact, now that he was no longer focused on his own fight, he wondered how he had managed not to notice anything until now. Justin and Blaise were shouting so loudly that all the enemy reinforcements for miles around must have heard them. He cursed his two idiots incapable of staying out of sight as he had asked them. Even Dobby seemed to understand that amateurs would only get in the way since he had made him Apparate alone (ignoring the protests of the other two).

Then he started running, thinking about what his father would have done to him if he had dared such exuberance during their daily training sessions. He barely slowed down to glance at Dobby and make sure he was okay.

The initial plan was for the elf to discreetly apparate him behind enemy lines, and together they would immobilize the men hiding there. If everything had gone as planned, they would have stunned them all before they realized anything. A perfect plan that was thwarted when the elf cried out in pain after they had jointly surprised and immobilized two wizards hidden behind the mountain of underbrush surrounding the cottage. Apparently, his ancestors had done a good job ensuring that elves could never turn their power against wizards. Immediately, the alarm was raised, and Nott had to engage in combat with the two militiamen.

Nott arrived just in time to see an exhausted Blaise get hit by a spell he would only later identify as a simple Stupefy. In a fit of panic and rage, he threw all his father's training to the wind and shouted:

Avada K…

Before being interrupted by a "Expelliarmus" from Justin. The young man barely 20 years old facing them wore a terrified expression on his face upon realizing what had almost happened. Before he could recover from his surprise, Nott charged at him and, taking advantage of his speed, knocked him out with a violent kick. Despite his disdain for Muggles, his father recognized thevalue of their combat techniques and had taught them to him from a young age. Once he was sure that his young opponent would no longer hinder them, he shouted to Justin:

Can I know what got into you?

Excuse me!? Are you kidding me? You were going to kill that guy.

They saw my face. And they know Blaise's name. We can't let them live. Nott said with a dark look as he headed towards Blaise's motionless body. Noting that he was simply stunned, he extended his hand to Justin and asked authoritatively:

My baguette!

This one hesitated:

We don't kill anyone, they...

They tried to deliver us to the dark lord. They are enemies and we are at war. If you are not ready to kill, you might as well commit suicide right away, it will save us time.

Have you ever killed?

Nott lowered his eyes and replied:

I did not kill them, just knocked them out.

This evasive answer seemed to relieve Justin, but not enough for him to return his wand. So Théo sighed:

For the love of Merlin. And then you dare say that I have suicidal behavior. I swear on the honor of the Notts not to kill them without your sacred agreement.

Justin handed him his wand and asked:

We could forget them.

Enervatum! This spell is beyond our reach. Unless you want me to turn their brain into mush. I repeat, we have to kill them. And quickly. I remind you that we still have the trace. The ministry will soon send reinforcements. For all we know, my father is already on his way.

We don't have to kill them. Blaise said weakly, who had no trouble understanding what he was talking about.

You're not going to start too, are you? Are you sure you're a Slytherin?

It wasn't me who rushed alone into a 1 vs 5 fight. You know, red and gold would look great with your eyes.

I was not alone, there was Dobby. And DOBBY… He shouted, remembering that he had left the elf in a bad state.

Immediately, he heard a pop of Apparition and a still sickly-looking elf appeared in front of him.

Master Nott called.

Yes, prepare our luggage, we're leaving. Take only the bare essentials. Theodore ordered without showing the relief he felt knowing he was in good health. The elf would have been an immense strategic loss.

Do not speak to him as if he were your servant. Justin snapped at Theo for what seemed to him like the umpteenth time that day.

But the elf bowed before disapparating. Blaise, who had just gotten up, added:

Me, I'll make sure they don't report us. In the meantime, try to make yourselves useful, you deadweights. Honestly, I feel like I'm the one doing everything here. Honestly, what would you do without me?

For 5 seconds, Nott stood stunned at such nerve. 5 seconds, which Blaise used to run away, knowing that Nott would soon start chasing him under Justin's mocking smile. While trying to escape his best friend's attempts to murder him, he seriously wondered what theywould do if he were not there to occasionally remind them that they were in the same boat.

oOoOoOoOo

When he woke up, his face and clothes full of mud, the sun had begun to set. After 30 minutes of exhausting efforts, he and his men, still groggy, managed to overcome the protections surrounding the cottage. Andrew thought that although weakened, they were much more powerful than any he had seen before. Unsurprisingly, when he entered inside with wand in hand, he found only an empty house. Despite the presence of his son, he swore. Then he saw a note pinned to the kitchen table:

Sir, we took advantage of your sleep to escape, I hope you won't have any trouble because of it.

We have no money, but on the back of this letter, you will find an IOU from the Zabini family. As it does not bear my family's seal, the goblins will not accept it, but when this war is over, be assured that I will honor it. In exchange, I just ask you not to mention my name when you make your report to the Death Eaters.

The Death Eaters!? That kid has lost his mind. Another idiot who believes in Dumbledore's lies. Even dead, he has to stir up trouble. Andrew exclaimed while reading the end of the letter.

Then he glanced at the amount indicated on the back and nearly fainted. As discreetly as possible, he put the note in his pocket. When the letter informed him that after examining the purity of his blood, he had been appointed paterfamilias of the district recently formed by the new administration, he had thought that the few coins he would glean thanks to his new functions would barely compensate for the troubles that would befall him.

Of course, he had quickly changed his mind. He, who had always lacked money, had accumulated enough galleons in less than two days to settle all his debts. But if this Blaise paid his debts, he would be able to grease enough palms to send his three children abroad.

When he pushed the door of his home, he had never been so happy. But instead of the nasal voice of his youngest, a cold voice greeted him.

Mr. Guzman, I am Lord Nott. But I suppose you remember me. I am returning from the cottage where you intervened this afternoon. I have a few questions to ask you.

Andrew Guzman swallowed. The voice of the richly dressed man in front of him was not threatening, but his instinct screamed at him to run away. Unfortunately for him, his legs decided otherwise. Despite his will, he sat down and a long interrogation began.

oOoOoOoOo

Author's note: You are surely wondering how it is that Dobby obeys Harry's order to attack Lucius Malfoy at the end of my book 2, if there is a spell that prevents elves from attacking wizards even if their master asks them to? And this while Harry has not yet freed him. And besides, how does he manage in that case to attack Harry with the Bludger in the middle of that same book 2. You thought you had caught me in a contradiction in my story. Well, not at all. In fact, there is a very simple explanation. More than simple, I would say it is of such triviality that it redefines the very notion of argumentative simplicity. I will therefore have no particular difficulty ingive it to you as soon as possible and will therefore do so without further delay, because I know how important punctuality and brevity are for my readers, give you the explanation by... Oh! Look over there. Ninja!

The author throws a smoke bomb and runs away. After 2 hours of a flight as epic as it is exhausting, which led him to cross flooded rivers, charges of rhinoceroses, and a store at the start of sales, he had a flash of genius and found the explanation. He then made the entire round trip to return to see his readers and write the continuation of this note:

So, in fact, in J.K. Rowling's books there is a problem with the elves: they are way too powerful. Malfoy Manor and Hogwarts are two fortresses protected by an accumulation of protective spells cast by several generations of wizards over millennia (including Dumbledore for Hogwarts and Voldemort for Malfoy Manor), and yet Dobby can apparate there without any problem. Moreover, in book 2, it shows that Dobby manages to defeat, without any difficulty, Lucius Malfoy even though he is supposed to be one of Voldemort's best Death Eaters. Needless to say, if at the end of book 7 the army of elves serving at Hogwarts had the idea of fighting with their power rather than with pots and pans, they would have won the war easily.

To resolve their difficulties, I think it is mandatory for elves to be subject to a variant of Asimov's laws. Like the Muggles with robots, I think wizards considered the possibility of elves being used as weapons even before they finished creating them. Therefore, I think they implemented rules for them to follow that even their master cannot order them to break.

But we saw in the original books with Dobby and Kreacher that elves are so powerful that, at the cost of a great effort, they can interpret the rules they are subject to in order to give themselves liberties. Like all rules created by humans, they can be circumvented. An elf cannot use their powers directly against a wizard, but they can use them indirectly by controlling a Bludger or a frying pan. An elf can use their powers to immobilize a wizard without harming them (as Dobby does with Lucius) but not to harm them.

And it will be said that the spells preventing elf Apparition are too costly to be cast by anything other than a state. Blocked, the elves' power in a place would be the equivalent of going to the moon for Muggles. It's possible, but out of reach, for a school or a simple citizen, no matter how wealthy.

Or among wizards, the use of elves for war is the equivalent among Muggles of using the atomic bomb: a weapon so terrifying that its use, even in a limited manner, is a taboo which, if broken, would lead to all the countries of the world banding together against you. As a result, wizards do not use elves for war or to escape from Azkaban.

Or maybe the wizards are so stupid and racist that in several thousand years, they just never thought of using elves as weapons.

In fact, I think we can imagine thousands of ways to get out of this impasse. That's what makes J.K. Rowling's universe so great. It is as incoherent as the real world. So, without breaking the canon, one can create thousands of contradictory theories and all kinds of stories. The inconsistencies in J.K. Rowling's books are not weaknesses, but strengths for those who observe them with all the love of a fan.

Even if it doesn't pass Occam's razor, I will consider in this fic that the first explanation is the correct one. It will be more flattering for my characters and J.K. Rowling's universe.

Note from the proofreader: I will respond much more simply, I think, and without disparaging JK's work or your fic. More than a thousand years of voluntary servitude. Wizards do not fear elves because they despise them, and elves see themselves as natural slaves it would never occur to them to attack wizards. Throughout the saga, the only elf who wants to be free is Dobby. Winky becomes depressed once fired by Crouch and never recovers until her death. As for Kreacher, he worships his masters, the highly revered Black family. However, Sirius is disowned by his family, so he is no longer a master, just a renegade, and Harry is in the same situation since he is only his master because of Sirius. Thus, it is all the easier for Kreacher to interpret orders as he wishes, given that the two men are not considered those precious masters. He also listens much more readily to the portrait of a dead person than to the living who remain. This is just my interpretation.

Trip to Hogwarts

They had been walking for hours now, all six of them in silence along the desolate roads of the English moors, ready at the slightest suspicious noise to hide in the bushes. Fortunately, not a shadow of a car came to disturb them, as their procession would have raised a host of questions from any Muggle driver, notably, what were three teenagers in robes, two sweaty adults who had long since lost the habit of hiking longer than the width of a shopping mall, and a house-elf (who, despite his short legs, had no trouble keeping up) doing here.

However, this did not reassure Theodore Nott, who had been affecting a worried air since the beginning of their journey. Vernon couldn't help but loudly express his disapproval of the teenager's surly attitude. Yet it was he who had insisted so much that he should leave. And now that they found themselves on the road with nothing but their clothing like mere vagabonds, he was grumbling even more. For Vernon, it was proof that it was useless to try to improve the lot of this kind of thug. No matter what you do, they are never satisfied.

But Théodore had no use for his opinion. In any case, how could he explain to him that this improvised escape was not at all what he had envisaged when, just before the attack, he had suggested leaving the cottage? They had left so many traces that in his mind there was no doubt that his father was going to find them. He himself would have had no trouble, so he didn't dare imagine with what ease his father would trace their path. Not to mention that due to the insistence of the other 5 and the limited time he had to make them see reason, he had resigned himself to leaving witnesses alive behind them. In Théo's mind, the situation was clear. It was a race and if they didn't quickly find a way to go faster, they were going to lose it. He was so desperate that he was considering accepting Petunia's proposal to join a more frequented route and hitchhike to the vicinity of Hogwarts. If he understood correctly what a car was, then it would greatly shorten their journey (and spare them from enduring the complaints of that unbearable Muggle). However, taking more frequented paths also meant increasing the risks of bad encounters.

I can't take it anymore, we need to take a break. Exclaimed Vernon as he sat down on a rock.

We don't have time. Get your big butt up and ...

Hey Theo, calm down. I think a break would do us all good. Blaise interrupted, pointing at Dobby and Petunia who, even though they weren't complaining as much as Vernon, were also struggling to keep up with the brisk walking pace set by Nott.

We don't have time. We need to reach Hogwarts as quickly as possible. Countered Nott with annoyance. This provoked a tirade from Vernon:

Who gave you the title of leader? In case you forgot, the adult here is me! And I've decided that we're going to stop to rest and decide where we're going. Shouted Vernon.

Théo laughed nastily.

You, lead us!? I don't know what impresses me more. Your ignorance or your nerve?

The little punks like you who think they know everything, even though they don't even have a hair on their chin, I eat 10 of them for breakfast.

Here is an amusing pretension. And an excellent explanation for your unsightly silhouette (author's note: for those who didn't understand, he is calling Vernon fat).

Nott raised his wand and declared solemnly:

I am the offended one, but I leave you the choice of weapons. Try to make sure I don't fall asleep before the end.

Huh!! Said Vernon Dursley with a bewildered look.

No, but seriously Théo, what century are you living in? Reacted Blaise, lowering his friend's wand authoritatively.

He clearly challenged me. Retorted Nott.

Théo, it's been centuries since Muggles stopped dueling for honor. Justin tried to explain calmly.

And then, do you think we have time for this nonsense? Blaise insisted. This last argument seemed to hit the mark with Théodore. Nevertheless, he couldn't help but argue with obvious bad faith:

You were the one who claimed that we could afford to frolic.

I didn't say we had time to rest, I said we needed it. Blaise replied calmly, sitting down on the ground.

Justin then tried in a hesitant voice:

And I think out of all of us, it's most necessary for you. Honestly, I don't recognize you anymore. At first, I thought it was because of what Har... Well, you don't have to carry everything alone. Vernon is right, you're just a kid like us.

You have no idea what we're dealing with. Complained Théo as he sat down on a large rock. He had never managed to change Justin's mind. And then, Blaise dared to say he was stubborn.

Listen, if we let Dobby rest, he might be able to help us Apparate a good part of the way. Suggested Justin to relax him.

If we do that, we'll be immediately spotted by the trail. It's better to keep that for an emergency.

Vernon, taking this exchange as an invitation to discuss his plans, asked:

And why do you want us to go to Hogwarts? We don't even know what we'll find there. It would be better if we hide in a small Muggle village. We're not far from Castleton. It's full of big luxury houses isolated in the middle of the countryside that are practically never inhabited. Besides, I wouldn't be surprised if the Finch-Fletchleys have one.

If it were that simple, do you really think I would have put up with you for so long? If it were enough to give up one's powers and get lost in the Muggle world to escape the ministry, Azkaban would be empty. There are simple spells to locate a wizard. How do you think owls work? To escape them, a wizard must take refuge in magically protected places. Even if there was no trace, the presence of such a spell in the middle of a Muggle area would inevitably attract attention. And I would ask you to address me formally. I understand that your education has not prepared you to associate with beings of my rank, but this familiarity is unbearable.

Vernon was tempted to put the arrogant brat in his place, but decided to refrain when he saw that despite his falsely relaxed demeanor, he kept his hand on his wand and seemed ready to pounce at any moment.

What is a paterfamilias? Justin asked, as much out of curiosity as to break the awkward silence that had just settled.

This is the name of the traditional leaders of the sorcerer society until the conquest by William the Conqueror. After the fall of the Roman Empire, both Muggle and wizard civilians slowly abandoned the cities ravaged by looting, epidemics, and the collapse of trade to find refuge with patricians who ruled vast agricultural domains and had formed strong military alliances with barbarian chiefs. However, tensions quickly arose between the communities. In the Roman Empire, wizards, due to their superio... well, let's say they enjoyed a privileged status which created resentment among the Muggle population that the church relied on to establish its power. To escape the discrimination of these idi... Well, let's say that the Muggles were more numerous and that the wizards gradually gathered on the rare lands of wizard patricians, like the Notts, who managed to retain their title despite the assaults of the church and their neighbors, Theodore explained with pride.

Or the Weasleys, Blaise innocently reminded.

Yes, the Weasleys too. Nott said annoyed in front of Justin and Blaise's amused expressions. In short, over time, the wizard leaders took the title of paterfamilias to signal to lowborn wizards that they were their protector. Meanwhile, the Muggle patricians indulged so much in decadence and intermixing with barbarian elites that their power rested only on force and they adopted Roman military titles like duke and count.

Basically, the noble wizards, like for example the Notts, are all nice and good-looking, while the noble Muggles are evil and stink.

That's not what I said. If you could stop interpreting everything with your progressive ideology. Nott defended himself. After some time, he added:

Okay, my father's books were probably not very objective. What needs to be understood is that, like the ancient kings after the fall of the Roman Empire, You-Know-Who doesn't have enough officials to govern his territory. So he is trying to restore the feudal system that prevailed before the creation of the council of wizards or the ministry of magic. Except that the ancient paterfamilias were chosen based on their military power, whereas the dark lord uses the criterion of blood. At least officially. If I were him, I would rather appoint local notables. That way not only is their power more easily respected by the population, but also, he can control them by threatening to reveal their true blood status. Although, the dark lord doesn't need such artifices to be terrifying. Added Nott, shivering as he recalled his only encounter with the dark lord.

You disappoint me, son. Reasoned a cold voice behind them, stunning Dobby by surprise.

Immediately Justin and Baise jumped and reflexively cast their most powerful shield spell, which combined to form an impenetrable barrier of light, while Theo threw himself behind the rock where he was sitting, an offensive spell on the tip of his tongue that was replaced by a curse when his friends' protection shattered under the assault of an unspoken spell. Without taking the time to devise a strategy, Theo launched himself at the unknown figure in Death Eater attire.

Fulguris! Theo shouted, invoking the terrestrial lightning.

The gaze visible through the Death Eater's white mask showed no emotion as he deflected the spell with a negligent gesture and countered with a deadly spell. For a split second, Theo hesitated to let himself be struck down by the spell. Anything was better than facing the Dark Lord again. How many hours had he spent at the cottage dwelling on his fears, whenGiving in to his complaints, his friends had left him alone. However, seeing the enemy begin to turn his wand towards Justin and Blaise, who had not yet recovered from the shock caused by the previous spell (which their barrier had fortunately weakened if not stopped), for the umpteenth time that day, his blood boiled and he threw himself into the battle. It was out of the question for his friends to experience the same terror that gripped him almost every night when his nightmares made him believe he was once again at the mercy of that monster.

Without regard for the cuts caused by the stones on the path on his knees, he made a violent leap to the side and countered to keep his opponent's attention focused on him.

An exchange of spells began where the two opponents, still mobile, formed a danYou are a professional translator. Directly translate this text into English, without adding anything.and deadly, whose pattern Théo recognized. From now on, he had no doubt about the identity of his opponent. Along with fatigue, fear overcame Théo until their rhythm was broken by two Expelliarmus spells from Justin and Blaise, who, until then, had merely stayed on the sidelines of their duel, looking for an opportunity to intervene without risking hitting Théo.

The Death Eater deflected the spell without the slightest difficulty and the Expelliarmus turned against their caster, who were disarmed and half-stunned against a tree (and Vernon's belly, who had thrown himself to prevent Blaise from crashing into a rock that would have shattered his spine). But Theo knew he didn't have time to worry about his friends and had to take advantage of the opening they had given him to try everything. He concentrated with all his might, praying it would work, then spun around.

When he looked up, the spot he had occupied a second before was now a crater formed by the spell his father had just cast. Without bothering to check if he had dislocated anything (as during the session at the beginning of July when his father had tried to teach him and Draco to Apparate), he shouted:

Fulguris!

This time, the lightning indeed originated from the ground to strike its victim.Théoexults. The spell cast at point-blank range in his father's back propelled him into an impressive aerial flight. For the first time, he had managed to hit him. But his enthusiasm was short-lived when he landed gracefully on the green grass of the plain and turned to face him. The only visible damage was a crack on his mask. Through reflexes hard-earned by his upbringing, Théo showed nothing, but he had just lost all hope. He had put all his power into that spell and was now exhausted. He would not survive another round.

However, the Death Eater did not seem to want to continue the fight and removed his damaged mask. Nott Senior then addressed his son in a neutral voice:

As usual, it was pathetic, son. Much better than what you have accustomed me to, but pathetic nonetheless. Have you lost your mind? How can you hope to survive by siding with that trash?

Théo replied:

The Notts place honor above all else, even their own survival.

The best way to preserve the honor of our name is for my sole heir to survive these troubled times.

That's where our opinions differ, father.

Do not speak to me in that tone, son. You will immediately stop your childish behavior and come with me. I took advantage of my position to intercept the reports related to your trace, but this fight will soon attract the rest of the servants of the dark lord.

Despite the reprimand, his son did not show the slightest hint of repentance in his eyes and raised his wand with a steady hand, ready to resume the duel.

Hum! Your grandfather would be proud of you. Try to survive longer than that fool. Said Nott senior in a cold tone, before throwing his wand to the ground.

What are you doing? Théo asked incredulously.

I thought I had raised you better, Son. Your enemy is disarmed. Take advantage of this opportunity or I will finish off your impure-blooded allies and the traitor to his blood. Unless you have come back to your senses. What do you hope to gain from such a misalliance? The Dark Lord, despite his obvious flaws, is undeniably the most powerful wizard of all time and soon, all will bow at his feet. Finish off this mudblood and I am convinced that the Dark Lord will give you a second chance to accept his mark. He can forgive a youthful mistake when it comes from a family as powerful and respectable as ours. Especially if we bring him these two. He declared while pointing at the Dursleys.

They are not my allies, they are my friends. Avada Kedavra!

But the miserable green light that escaped from Nott Junior's wand was barely enough to make his father's nose bleed.

If you are not strong enough to make this choice, then I will do it for you. Nott's father raised his arm and his wand flew into his hand.

Endoloris! Shouted Nott's father towards Justin, who began to scream in agony.

AVADA KEDAVRA! Yelled Théo.

This time, a green flash so powerful that the occupants of the clearing had to close their eyes rushed towards Nott senior. But the spell was slow. Or rather Theo knew it was far too slow for the sharp reflexes of a man as trained as his father. During their many training sessions, he had seen him easily dodge much more pernicious attacks. And yet, he remained motionless and gave his son one of his rare smiles before offering him his last words:

Now, you are worthy of being my heir.

Then he threw the ring he had on his finger in the direction of his son. The spell hit him, then in the middle of his chest, and without a sound, he collapsed into the field of withered flowers at his feet. Théo, for his part, remained stunned, his wand still pointed at the empty space where his father had stood. He barely noticed the figures approaching him. He lowered his eyes, fearing to see in their gaze a mix of contempt and pity.

He felt a hand on his shoulder. He looked up and was surprised to see that it belonged to Vernon Dursley, who simply said:

Thank you.

We don't say thank you for that. Said Théo in a weak voice.

I leave the grand speeches and great values to the intellectuals. Me, I'm a simple man. That bastard wanted to kill us, you killed him, you saved us. You don't have to feel guilty. You did what was necessary.

Petunia then gave him a surprise hug. At first reluctant, he let it happen, rediscovering sensations he hadn't felt since he was 5 years old. Despite everything, he did not cry. At least until Justin, more or less recovered from the shock caused by the Doloris, asked him if he wanted to bury his father.

oOoOoOo

In the evening before falling asleep, he discreetly made his way to Petunia's sleeping bag.

Even though you are just a Muggle, I am sorry for what my father did to your family.

Petunia jumped, but replied:

It's not your fault.

Why did you do that to Harry if you loved him? Nott then asked abruptly.

Unsettled by the sudden change of conversation, she needed a few seconds to find what to say to the teenager who was nervously staring at her, impatiently waiting for her response. She knew little about young Theodore's childhood, but enough to understand why the answer was important to him. So she forced herself to be honest. More honest than she had been with anyone on this subject (including herself).

At the time, I wasn't really well. I had experienced so much upheaval with the loss of my job, the arrival of Dudley, the death of my parents... in short, I wasn't myself. And I hated my sister. I think I blamed all my problems on her and when she died, on Harry. He had nothing to do with it, it was me who had a problem. I think Justin summed it up very well: only a psychopath would do that to a child. I don't understand how he managed to act as if nothing had happened. When I find him, I will do everything so that he can finally move on.

Théo glanced in the direction of Justin, who was sleeping soundly while murmuring 'more potatoes with my roast beef,' as drool escaped from his mouth.

Hufflepuffs, they are stronger than they appear.

Then Théodore turned to Pétunia and said to her in a harsh tone:

I understand that it's hard, but you have to accept that Harry is dead.

No, he is still there. I don't know if I told you, but one day Vol.., the Dark Lord found the place where Dumbledore had hidden us. Before we fled, I caught his gaze and I saw Harry come out. Vernon refuses to listen to me, but I know what I saw, it was Harry. Without that, how can you explain that he let us go?

Embarrassed, not knowing how to correct her, Theodore went back to his sleeping bag next to Justin and noticed with disgust that his pillow was now soaked with his friend's drool.

oOoOoOoOo

Author's note: Castleton is an extremely touristy and beautiful place located by the sea. In general in France, right next to this kind of site, you find villas worth several million euros so that our dear oligarchs can rest from everything they have trickled down to the common people through their hard work (spoiler, it’s not money). I have no idea if it's the same in the UK, but I assumed it is. But maybe I'm completely wrong and there isn't a shadow of a mansion for the ultra-rich in Castleton.

Similarly, my only knowledge in history is limited to reading Wikipedia pages. I am an amateur author and therefore do not have the time to conduct research to produce a coherent story about the witch community.What we know about the period or to slip historical knowledge into my story. It's a shame, because in addition to making my fic educational, I'm sure it would inspire me with great stories. In the meantime, take everything in my fic as pure fiction.

Author's Note 2: Initially, I wanted the last sentence of Nott senior to be: "Quickly impregnate a woman of noble lineage so that our name endures." But I gave up on it because I thought the moment wasn't suitable for joking.

Hogwarts

In a pop of apparition, all five of them finally arrived in a clearing in the middle of the woods.

Knowing that after their last fight, they would probably have all of Voldemort's forces on their tail, they had decided to take advantage of Theo's new abilities to make the rest of the journey by Apparating.

Despite everything, as soon as they arrived, Dobby collapsed from exhaustion. Theo had not felt comfortable enough to take on more than one passenger. As a result, the elf (still not recovered from what had happened at the cottage) had to make the greatest effort.

Is everyone alive? Shout if you're hurt. Nott asked, wand raised ready for combat while the others held back from vomiting after the chaotic apparition they had just undergone.

They all replied that they were fine. He then continued to stand guard while Blaise and Justin leaned over Dobby. Even Vernon seemed worried about his condition (despite his repulsive appearance and manners, he had grown attached to the creature). As for Petunia, knowing she could do nothing for the elf, she began to explore the surroundings to find out where they had arrived.

After a few minutes, she crossed a barrier formed by a tangle of plants, which she preferred to think were just wild ivy, perfectly harmless and not another monstrosity created by magic, and she let out a gasp of exclamation. She was at the top of an extremely steep cliff, and a few hundred meters away, a magnificent castle stood in all its splendor. The magnificence of the place was such that she did not need confirmation from young Nott to understand where she was. At that moment, she thought of her sister, and a tear rolled down her cheeks.

You see Lily, it took me 30 years, but I also went to Hogwarts.

To recover from her shock, she leaned on the ancient wooden barrier that was all that separated her from a ten-meter chasm.

While Petunia (quickly joined by Vernon carrying Dobby still unconscious on his back) admired the view offered by the castle, the other young wizards, accustomed to this spectacle for 3 years, focused on the village located at its outskirts. Even from here, Hogsmeade was unrecognizable. The peaceful and picturesque wizarding village seemed to have transformed into a fortified city of several thousand inhabitants. Hogsmeade was now the border village of a vast wall made of odds and ends, but above all a magical barrier whose power the young wizards could feel from here. All the Hogwarts professors must have combined their power and knowledge to build it. But the wall was insufficient to curb the tide of unsanitary shelters that seemed to have taken over the outskirts of Hogsmeade, thus forming a gigantic slum where tens of thousands of refugees must have been crammed.

How is Dobby? Asked Petunia.

I have no idea. I cast the healing spells I know on him, but I'm not a mediwizard. Blaise replied.

He is fine, ma'am. He just needs rest. Nott affirmed with a strange certainty.

Madam and not the Muggle? Remarked Petunia.

Before the teenager, embarrassed to have been caught in the act of humanity, could respond, about ten wizards emerged from the bushes and began to bombard them from all sides. Despite the hastily erected shieldsby the three boys to try to protect them. Petunia was quickly hit and, under the force of the spell, flew over the barrier that separated her from the chasm. Her last thoughts, before everything went black, were:

"Even if you step back, you move towards death"

It's strange the nonsense that goes through your head before you die.

oOoOoOo

Theodore was in pain. He tried to open his eyes but closed them immediately. Someone was approaching. He tried to pretend to be unconscious while trying to guess where his wand was. The stranger approached, and without a word leaned against him. Very quickly, he was so close that he could feel his breath against him. For a few seconds, he seemed to examine him in silence. Then Nott felt a sharp pain in his forehead and someone screamed in his ear:

STAND UP THE DEAD!

Nott started so violently that he would have fallen backwards if he weren't securely tied to the bed. Swearing at this dark fool, he tried to find a way to untie his bonds, while in the bed next to him Justin was waking up still groggy:

Fred, what are you doing here? exclaimed Justin, sitting up. Apparently, he wasn't tied up, Nott thought.

Originally, I asked for her sister, but I was told she was too young. Replied a man wearing a tattered medicomage robe, rubbing his eye as if to erase a painful memory.

I couldn't stand Percy and his bossy attitude anymore, so I asked for a job, and since I was good at potions, I ended up here. Come on, open wide. Fred replied with a mischievous smile as if he hadn't been interrupted, pulling a huge suppository out of his pocket.

I will not open anything as long as you are here, replied Justin.

Such a refusal would never have happened with her sister. Thought it wise to add the man despite the incendiary look Fred gave him. The latter ignored him and approached Nott.

Stop using your magic. You're just going to delay your healing and the end of my workday.

This last remark did nothing to reassure Nott, who did not think it was possible to notice his attempts to break the spells that kept him lying against the bed. But he showed nothing and while he scrutinized the man, he asked:

Where are we?

In the infirmary of Hogwarts. Replied the man.

It doesn't look like the Hogwarts infirmary, Justin remarked.

Indeed, the large room surrounded by beds and medical equipment just separated by a few curtains did not remind Nott of anything. But he preferred to scrutinize the man. He was sure he had seen him before. Yet, he would have had a hard time forgetting a healer with such a disheveled appearance. Moreover, his wand was covered in a flashy red color and his healer's robe with various silver jewelry that surely wasn't very regulation.

Why am I tied up?

To prevent you from killing our new nurse. Not that it would bother me, but this time, I would like to see you again after all your injuries have healed.

It is there that a memory returns to Nott and his blood ran cold. Instinctively, he tried to back away, but was once again blocked by his bonds. Then rememberingwhere he was, he said in a voice from which he could not hide his fear (to his great shame):

I recognize you. You are Greg Housser. During the war, you treated Death Eaters and then you helped my father relocate former followers of You-Know-Who to St. Mungo's.

Is it true what he's saying? Fred asked while Justin was getting up hastily from his bed.

In my defense, they had more medical expertise than the female lingerie models I had initially considered.

Everyone raised their wand against Greg. How had Justin gotten one and why wasn't he tied up? Nott wondered.

Which side are you on? Blaise asked, who had just appeared in Nott's line of sight.

He couldn't help but let out a sigh of relief upon seeing his friend in perfect health and free to move. Unlike Justin and him, Blaise wasn't wearing the St. Mungo's pajamas, but the robe he was wearing at the time of their departure from the cottage where Dumbledore had hidden them.

When I was in Slytherin, no one would have dared to ask me such a stupid question. I am in my camp.

Without taking into account the wands pointed at him, he tried to tend to a wound that Justin had reopened by getting up too hastily, but the latter stepped back.

Don't be ridiculous. Said Housser, pushing Justin roughly onto his bed and tearing off his old bandage while the others were still wondering whether they should stun him or not.

Ouch! You're hurting me. exclaimed Justin.

He ignored the complaint and while checking that Justin's injuries were completely healed, Housser explained:

You didn't know that time, you can't judge. I'm a mediwizard, I swore to heal. What was I supposed to say to a 20-year-old Death Eater bleeding out and calling for his mother? Sorry, but they cut off the wrong arm. Come back when you've lost the one with the mark. I did what everyone did: what I could. After the war, I became a renowned mediwizard and received requests from all sides to take on apprentices. Including from your father. He added, turning to Nott. Then he continued:

Knowing that I was not exemplary either, I chose the most talented without worrying about their past. After all, they had as much right as I did to a second chance. Like everyone else, I thought the dark lord would not return. How could I have known? No one before him had succeeded in defeating death.

You forget Herpo the Foul. Objected Blaise

It's just a legend. And coming back in the form of a specter less dangerous than a ghost only to then disappear to who knows where, I wouldn't call that coming back.

Dumbledore…. Blaise tries to object

One of the things Dumbledore appreciated about me was that I was one of the few wizards who didn't drink in his words as if they were pissed by some damn messiah.

Dumbledore! Where is he? If we are really at Hogwarts, we should be able to talk to him. Asked Nott, who was sure that the old wizard was his best chance to be untied and have his wand returned.

Fred and Greg's faces darkened.

He is dead. Fred said laconically.

What do you mean, dead?

Dead, like deceased, croaked, kicked the bucket, snuffed it, cooled off, checked out, bought the farm, aired his guts. Declared Greg without the slightest pity.

But that's not possible. It's Dumbledore. How did this happen? Justin finished, seeing the expression on Fred and Greg's faces. They had all lowered their wands.

Like everyone else. Emptying his guts through all the orifices. Greg replied angrily, turning back to examine Nott, who this time let him do it.

He died after the stadium attack due to the effects of the radiators, explained Fred more charitably.

Radiation. Greg specified.

Nott and Blaise didn't know what radiation was, but they weren't sure they wanted to know more about a dark magic capable of mortally wounding Dumbledore. In any case, they were too stunned by the news to think clearly. This seemed to annoy Greg, who snapped at them:

Oh, but you will stop this circus. At his age, it's not a tragedy. Save your tears for your loved ones.

How can you say that? How could we win without him? Nott reproached.

When I think that your father kept going on about your intelligence. Dumbledore was just a man. As powerful as he was, he wasn't going to determine the outcome of the war all by himself. In your place, I would be more worried about the disappearance of almost the entire Order of the Phoenix and the Aurors. About Umbridge's inaction, who is content to strengthen her defenses hoping that You-Know-Who would rather negotiate with her than attack her. Or the blockade that the Dark Lord is imposing on the Hogwarts enclave to force it to surrender and the increasingly severe rationing that the Ministry is imposing on us.

Nott remained silent and tried to suppress the storm of emotions raging within him. The worst part was that despite all his efforts to deny it, the information that upset him the most was that his father could have been proud of him. Fortunately, neither Justin nor Blaise seemed to have noticed the information.

Who protects Hogwarts in this case?

Where were you during the past few weeks? In a cave? Asked Greg.

None of them answered him, so Fred laconically said:

The ministry.

We're all going to die! exclaimed Blaise.

That's what happens to most people after a while, retorted Greg sarcastically.

Mr. Zabini, I would ask you to moderate your words. I would remind you that officially the ministry has not yet decided on your fate. Refraining from spreading slander about our noble and powerful administration could only be to your advantage, exclaimed an authoritative voice whose owner Nott could not see.

Huerg. Excuse me, Percy. Since you came back, there's a smell of brown-noser that's making me nauseous? said Fred, pretending to feel like vomiting.

Hilarious. Tell me, don't you have a chamber pot to change?

You're right, it would smell less bad. Fred replied, grimacing in disgust at his brother.

Are you two doing okay? Justin asked Fred and Percy.

Even though it had never been a passionate love between the head prefect and the prankster twins, he found it strange (and a little sad) to see them so at odds.

Wonderfully. And I would ask you to address me as Undersecretary of the Minister of Magic. Percy replied in a dry tone before stepping towards Nott.

Mr. Nott, I suppose you know why I am here?

Nott tried in an exaggeratedly visible manner to free himself from the spells that bound him before responding:

I have some presumption. But it would be very arrogant of me to believe my case is important enough to hold the attention of such a high-ranking person.

Know that I like flattery no more than insolence. He stated with an even drier tone, while his reddening face showed that he was not insensitive to the Slytherin's words. Then he continued:

But you are partly right, normally, I would have left it to the magical justice department to determine your punishment for illegally crossing our border. However, since you are a minor, I intend to personally handle this issue. It goes without saying that I do not question the professionalism of the men hired by our government, but in their zeal to maintain order and security, they sometimes fail to strictly adhere to certain procedures. And you will easily understand that the situation requires us to have some suspicion towards you.

You have no reason to suspect Théo of anything! Justin protested.

But Percy continued without paying attention to the interruption:

May I know why the son of a well-known supporter of You-Know-Who attempted to sneak into the protective perimeter of the Hogwarts enclave with You-Know-Who's house elf and the adoptive parents of his host?

To pick mushrooms. They are excellent this season. It's obvious they came to Hogwarts to take refuge there. Blaise already told you. Greg Housser answered in his place.

It is not you I am questioning. But if you insist, could you tell me why I was not immediately informed that he was in a condition to be questioned, as I had expressly requested after, at your request, I authorized him to be treated outside the dungeons?

It's not my fault if the bunch of brainless thugs you call a militia put them in this state.

Faced with the lord of darkness, we cannot take any risks. And I remind you that he has not been gentle with our men either.

The poor cabbages. 20 against 3 children and two Muggles, they must have been really scared. In any case, he still needs rest before he can face the stupidity of the ministry, without losing too many IQ points.

Watch your words. I don't know how you obtained it, but even Umbridge's protection has its limits.

Are you sure you don't have a more important threat to deal with than the Death Eater baby? Werewolf babies, for example?

For the first time since he had returned, Percy lowered his eyes and responded in a hesitant tone that reminded Justin of the prefect he had known for 3 years at Hogwarts:

Umbridge says it's necessary to unite the population. And it reduces the pressure on food supplies.

Umbridge says a lot of nonsense. All you've managed to do is push them into You-Know-Who's arms and give credit to his propaganda. Do you think he doesn't have enough supporters?

That's not the point.

It should be.

The two men glared at each other. Neither flinched until Nott asked:

Listen, anyway, we don't want to stay. Let us leave for the mainland and we won't bother you anymore.

If it were that simple, I would have sent Fred to Charlie in Romania a long time ago. Only the portkeys created before the Dark Lord placed his barrier work. And Umbridge severely rations their use. It doesn't please me any more than it does you to be here, so let's try to finish quickly. So why was the Dark Lord's elf with you?

Dobby is a free elf. Nott replied reflexively.

That doesn't exist. According to the register of elves from the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, it belongs to Mr. Potter. Retorted Percy.

Did you take the time to grab this kind of paperwork before fleeing?

Bureaucracy is the price to pay for civilization.

In front of the general disbelief Percy added:

I am still waiting for your response.

Leave Théo alone, Percy, I already told you that... Blaise tried before being quickly rebuffed:

For the last time, it’s the deputy secretary of state to the minister.

Or his majesty, his excellency, his highness. In the presence of a certain Ravenclaw prefect, he also accepts 'my little cabbage'. Replied Fred, who was innocently passing by with a basin full of a suspicious liquid.

Before Percy could send a sharp retort to his little brother, a paper airplane in the colors of the Ministry crashed into his face, and he began to unfold it with annoyance, then read the note with obvious fear.

What's happening? Asked Justin.

Nothing that concerns you. Let's resume our discussion. Could you tell me...

But Fred snatched the note and exclaimed:

But he's crazy!

Give me that back. Percy ordered, taking advantage of a moment of Fred's inattention to take it back from him.

You need to put together a rescue team. Fred continued.

And with what? We cannot afford to spread our forces. That's probably what You-Know-Who is hoping for. In any case, no one would be crazy enough to go there.

Me, I am! replied Fred

And it starts again. Percy complained, putting his hand against his face as if to soothe a headache.

I would start again until you let me join the militia. I want to fight.

For once, kid, listen to your brother. You're much more useful here. The militia is just a bunch of scavengers who spend their time extorting the population, Greg intervened.

This is treason. Percy objected.

Worse, it's the truth. Believe my experience, honest people are much more dangerous than traitors. They are the only ones who do not go with the flow. Then, not turning to Fred, he added:

As for you, I didn't know your brother, but I have held the hands of enough dying people to know that he wouldn't have wanted you to risk your life to avenge his.

George is dead! exclaimed Justin.

Yes. Said Fred with sadness, then he continued with forced joy. But there is something more important than me. And George would not have wanted me to mope. The confeder...

Stop, it's confidential.

In what way? You know very well that everything is known in this castle anyway. Even Dumbledore's death, you couldn't keep it secret for more than a day, even though you went as far as using his body to make Polyjuice Potion. I was saying, the International Confederation of Wizards sent someone to investigate what's happening in the United Kingdom and You-Know-Who captured them as soon as they arrived.

It's rather good for us. Now, the confederation will be forced to intervene, right? Blaise asked, supported by Fred who didn't understand what had gone through the mind of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named.

Yes, but against whom? In your opinion, who will the confederation find guilty: Harry Potter, the great defender of the oppressed and slayer of dark wizards who controls the majority of the country and has the support of the wealthy, or an obscure official known for her racism and lack of scruples who began her reign by lying about Dumbledore's death. Nott replied in place of Percy.

Ah finally someone who does honor to my house. Exclaimed Greg.

So this is the end. We made this whole journey for nothing. Said Justin in a small voice.

On the contrary, it's our ticket out. I suppose Umbridge planned to give her one of her precious international Portkeys so she could go tell the confederation the secrets of You-Know-Who. If we free her, we'll force her to let us accompany her and we can leave the country.

I thought it would be useless to leave the country? That You-Know-Who would always find us? Asked Blaise.

He has other fish to fry now. And after... After what happened during our trip, I think we won't be chased as much anymore. Nott explained to his friend.

I will accompany you. Exclaimed Fred.

Me too. Justin said immediately.

Blaise, for his part, remained silent. He did not want to abandon them and had little desire to linger in this depressive version of Hogwarts that he had traversed with the Dursleys (Petunia having had no magical injury, she was healed with a few wand strokes by Greg), while his friends were recovering from injuries due to their capture. Not to mention that he missed his mother. But he was terrified at the thought of having to face the Death Eaters again.

Percy, for his part, was rubbing his head as if he had suddenly been hit by a headache.

I will say it again slowly so you understand: YOU ARE TOO YOUNG. If I wanted incompetents, I have much better candidates.

Really? I think you have no other choice. Anyway, if we do nothing, the lord of darkness will win and he will kill us all. If we're lucky. He added darkly. We might as well go all in.

Mr. Nott, I congratulate you on understanding the situation so quickly. But being intelligent is not enough and I assure you that we are not desperate enough to entrust such a mission to children.

Me, I believe so. Face me in a duel and you will see if I am not your best hope.

Young man, it's ridiculous.

On the contrary, it's a very good idea. Unless you're afraid of getting your ass kicked by your little brother who didn't even get 3 OWLs. Fred challenged mischievously.

Finally, you are right. Declared Percy with a strange gleam in his eyes.

Really! exclaimed Fred. Uh, I'm always right. On guard. said Fred, not as sure of himself.

Let's see, Fred. Mom would turn over in her grave if she saw us fighting. Not to mention it would be a very bad example for Ginny. I have a better idea: GUIL! Percy finished by shouting.

Following this call, a mountain of muscles two meters high struggled to pass through the infirmary door, making the ground shake with each of its steps.

I present to you Guill, my bodyguard. Percy introduced.

GOARPF. Salua the giant. In any case, it looked like a salute thought Blaise.

Guill, these boys think they can beat you in a duel. Percy explained in a loud and clear voice, making big gestures as if he were talking to a small child.

Houarf houarf houarf. He laughed heartily in a way that resembled a dog's bark.

Are you sure you want to try your luck, Fred? No one would blame you for being scared, Percy challenged.

Of course, yes. I will show you what I am capable of. Fred replied, trembling.

Unable to retreat any further, he took a dueling stance. Then he began to run when his most powerful spell bounced off the giant without causing him the slightest scratch.

Doesn't he have troll blood? Greg murmured to Percy.

There are chances. Percy replied laconically.

The skin of trolls is not immune to magic? Continued Greg.

It's possible. He nodded without taking his eyes off the scene unfolding before him.

Is he just going to get his face smashed in? Greg insisted, worried about his assistant.

No. I am sure Fred was listening attentively when I mentioned this detail to him last week and that he took it into account before accepting my challenge. Ouch! That must hurt. Commented Percy with a smile when he saw the giant easily deflect a spell that sent Fred flying against the wall.

Greg then addressed him with a feigned anger that did not hide his worried look:

Fred, you slacker, know that broken rib or not, you'll do your job as planned, so stop messing around and go wash Mrs. Andersen. She did it again, you know what.

For a moment, Fred hesitated, but the bump that had formed on the back of his skull made him realize that it was better to face Mrs. Andersen's delicate intestines. Reluctantly, Fred admitted his defeat and got up, rubbing the back of his head.

Let me try. Said Theodore with determination.

"Pardon?" said Percy incredulously.

The deal is that if we beat him, you give us the mission. Free me and I'll make mincemeat out of your monster.

If you insist, replied Percy.

Before Greg could intervene, Percy raised his shackles and Theodore, quick as an arrow, dashed forward, stole Justin's wand, and cast such a powerful dark spell on the half-troll that it flew to the other end of the room. Unbeknownst to everyone, Nott let out a sigh of relief. He wasn't sure that Justin's wand would be sufficiently cooperative with him. Without a word, he turned and advanced towards his still-dazed audience:

Is that enough for you? Or do I also need to win a game of chess and solve a riddle?

Unfortunately, Percy did not have time to respond before the anti-dark-magic alerts resonated throughout the castle and a dozen guards arrived to arrest the dark mage who had managed to infiltrate so deeply into the ministry's innards. Percy had to use all his authority to get him out of the dungeon where he was imprisoned (and all his cunning to persuade Greg to heal him a third time rather than kill him).

I still don't trust you, but you're our best chance. Go and bring me back my promotio... uh, the confederation emissary. Said Percy while taking him out of his cell, accompanied by Justin and Blaise.

And I'll accompany you. Added Justin.

It's out of the question.

You need someone who knows the Muggle world and there is no way you are going alone. I'm coming with you, it's non-negotiable. Insisted Justin.

Nott, knowing Justin's character, did not try to negotiate. And secretly, he was rather happy that he was accompanying him. Instead, he asked:

Blaise?

Let’s be clear. I am only coming to make sure I can leave for France with you. Nothing would stand between me and the beautiful French girls.

Percy then handed them their wand.

Here, here is your wand. We have removed the trace. You can use magic without the risk of being detected. In fact, we are in the process of removing it from all the minor wizards of the enclave.

Is Dobby coming with us? Asked Blaise.

He has not yet fully recovered from the trip. And anyway, he prefers to stay and protect the Dursleys.

Greg is getting married

Greg, a patient wants to see you. Pomphresh shouted in the vast infirmary of Hogwarts.

Sorry, it's 5 PM, I'm going home.

Find what? Pomphresh replied without the slightest gentleness, pushing the admission form of the patient who had just arrived with all the symptoms of a poorly treated splattergroit and a tampered medical file into his hands. Later, she would regret having been so curt with him, but at that moment, she was too tired to put up with his whims.

Understanding that it was useless to argue with the dragoness, he went to the bed indicated on the sheet. As soon as he had drawn the curtain meant to give the occupant a minimum of privacy, he exclaimed:

Georgette, you were supposed to be in bed. Then again, it's true that I told you to rest, so I understand the dilemma.

Ben holds on, and do you think my boss accepts sick leaves?

Oh, stop your nonsense. Just like everyone else, tell him you have diarrhea, he won't check.

And how do I feed my kid? Do you ever leave the castle? It's a mess outside.

After a moment of silent contemplation, he replied:

Marry me.

Are you crazy? Exclaimed the patient.

But why is everyone asking me that?

Don't tell me you fell in love with me? Not you!

Of course not, I can't afford it. In any case, not more than two hours a week. If you marry me, I can bring you to the castle and you will have access to the ministry's kitchens. It's just a marriage of convenience. If you want, you can continue working and as soon as the war is over, we will separate.

She remained silent for some time.

I don't want your pity. She blurted out after a moment.

In this case, it would be more about saving money. A woman and a kid would cost me much less. And besides, it might turn out that I am the child's father.

No, it's not you. She stated in a tone of certainty.

What do you know about it?

At your age, you should know that to make children, it's the other hole.

No!!! Do you know who the kid's father is!? Greg exclaimed with surprise.

What makes you believe that? Georgette replied defensively.

It's cute. After all this time we've spent together, you still hope to hide things from me. Come on, tell me who it is?

No

But uh, I WANT TO KNOW, I WANT TO KNOW, I WANT TO KNOW. Shouted Greg with the angry expression of a child having a tantrum.

Calm down, please. I can't tell you anything.

I am his attending physician, I remind you. I need to have all the possible information. And then, he could help you. He is his son after all.

She sighed. She knew Greg well enough to know that he wouldn't give up until he got his answers. Moreover, if his proposal was really serious, it was better for her not to get on his bad side. At least until the end of this war. She looked around, grabbed herbaguette and cast a few spells she usually used to keep her affairs with married men discreet. Then she murmured:

He is a Death Eater. And one of the worst. I don't want him to know.

One day, he will end up asking questions.

Do you think he heard you for that? I told him that his father was a retired ministry official who often came to see me. He died of old age 6 years ago, so he won't be contradicting me.

And how can you be sure it's a lie? He could very well be the father. Or someone else. There is no shortage of possibilities and you know as well as I do that contraceptive spells are not completely reliable.

Mine do. That's mainly why I don't want him to know. His father wasn't really a client. His wife had just died, and to grieve, he found nothing better to do than to come to Knockturn Alley and take out his anger on all those who crossed his path. He's not the first lunatic to pull this kind of stunt on us, and usually, I'm prepared to deal with them. But that day, I was with a client who was paying me a small fortune to tie me up and do things to me that I'll keep to myself. He was weird, but he wasn't a bad guy, and I would feel guilty tarnishing his memory. He could have run away and left me there, but he insisted on untying me. It was fatal for him. When that bastard saw me naked on the bed, he went crazy and then he... He...

She swallowed a sob, then she continued.

Anyway, unlike my normal clients, he took no precautions and 9 months later, I ended up with a kid with the huge nose of that bastard. I didn't have much education, but I know how to add two and two.

Indifferent to the upheaval that the recollection of these events had caused in his future wife, he commented:

Now that you mention it, it's true that he looks a lot like his brother. They both have an incredible ability to make people want to hit them.

oOoOoOoOo

Author's note: Yes, the father is indeed who you think. For those who haven't guessed this pseudo-mystery, you will have the answer in a distant chapter.

The English resistance fighters save the confederation agents.

Constance Webb was having trouble breathing. But it had nothing to do with the hood covering her face. Nor with the stench that had been assaulting her since her captors had made her teleport.

Upon arriving on English soil, her group had been attacked. Yet they were representatives of the International Magical Confederation. Had they lost their minds? Even Grindelwald had never dared to attack the confederation so openly. For the first time in a long while, she was afraid. She was about to have a panic attack when her hood was removed. She looked all around her to catch the slightest clue about where she was, but vomited before she could analyze anything. She now knew where that awful smell that caught her throat came from. She pulled herself together and forced herself to examine the place thoroughly. She had been here before, she was sure of it. Despite her disgust, she forced herself to examine the place carefully, then noticed a detail: the engravings behind the gigantic pyres where bodies twisted in pain were burning. It was the hall of the Ministry of Magic. But it wasn't possible. And yet, she had to accept it. This antechamber of hell was indeed the hall of the Ministry.

The unrecognizable walls were now covered with a black dust that, she was sure, was composed of human ashes. The place once so lively was entirely silent except for a continuous chanting, regularly interrupted by the sound of whips coming from the former location of the magical fraternity fountain. She turned in its direction and saw that in place of the fountain now stood a gigantic statue of Voldemort who, sitting on a pile of corpses of different species, was being crowned by Salazar Slytherin. In front of the statue, men and women of all ages, half-naked, were chained and forced by a guard to continuously recite prayers to the statue. When one of them faltered, they were whipped until they found the strength to start again.

A chilling voice interrupted his thoughts:

I hope you like it. I plan to redecorate the world this way.

She turned in the direction of the cold voice that had spoken its words and swallowed. In front of her sat on a golden throne was Harry Potter, who was looking at her with his red eyes full of hate.

You (...) You won't get away with it like that.

Well, I see that diplomats are not as cowardly as they are said to be. But I am afraid this is only a pious wish. There is no one left to oppose me. From now on, all will bow before me. Or their family will meet the same fate. He harangued, pointing to the poor souls who continued to offer their prayers to the glory of Voldemort. Besides, if you want to watch the show, a spot has just become available.

He cast a Wingardium Leviosa. Constance looked up and saw that above Voldemort, a dozen people were crucified. One of them came loose and was ejected to the foot of the statue. Then Harry screamed in a terrifying voice:

Edgard Guzman. I grant you a minute of respite to say goodbye to your father. Then, throw him into the pyre. It's starting to get cold here.

Constance was so terrified that she could only silently watch a man in his twenties being untied and start crying in front of the corpse. Then he dried his tears, grabbed the body and, as requested, threw it into the fire, where it burned, spreading a vile smell.

One last thing, Edgard. If you survive the ordeal of genuflection. Know that from now on, you will succeed your father as the paterfamilias of your domain. If a member of your family dares, even just to think about disobeying me, you will be held responsible.

Yes, my lord. I will not disappoint you.

Harry turned once more to Constance, who couldn't help but tremble.

As for you, I will be direct: join me. Or you will face the consequences.

Constance gathered all her courage.

No. I would rather die than work for a monster like you.

A monster, you say? I should kill you. However, I really need a new agent within the international magical confederation. I fear that by transmitting the time and place of your arrival to me, my current agent has exposed himself a bit too much. An evening with Macnair might make you change your mind. Take her to the dungeons.

Immediately, a Death Eater with blond hair who couldn't have been more than 14 years old put a hood over her head and magically dragged her into the ministry's basement.

oOoOoOo

She remained alone for several hours, worrying in a stinking cell. At first, she tried to find a way to escape, but this was not fiction here. The walls were solid, and there was no chance she could surprise the guard who would come to take her to her torturer. Once she had resigned herself to the idea of escape, she looked for a way to end her life before being taken to this Macnair. But no matter how hard she searched, she found nothing. She must not have been the first prisoner to attempt something like that. Despite the filth covering the place, she sat on the floor and began to think. Anyway, she had little choice, as her cell had no furniture (except for a bucket for her needs).

She had not lied to the lord of darkness. What she had seen since her arrival had convinced her that even death was sweeter than living under his yoke. For the first time, she understood why the English had come to fear even pronouncing the name of this abject being. She knew that if she got out of it, she would banish from her life anything that could remind her of those few minutes spent in his throne room.

She was pulled out of her thoughts by the sound of footsteps coming in her direction, followed by the complaints of prisoners packed into the other cells. Unlike the others, at least, she had the privilege of an individual cell. Everyone was begging the visitor, whoever it was. Some were asking for water, others for food, but most often, they were just asking for news of their loved ones. A short, masked man in Death Eater attire stopped in front of her cell and opened it. Immediately, she lunged at him. She had no illusions. Without her wand, she had no chance of escaping. She just hoped that in surprise, he would push her back violently enough to mortally wound her. After all, men capable of serving that monster must themselves be bloodthirsty beasts prone to extreme violence. But to her great surprise, he stepped aside, and, carried by her momentum, she crashed into the door of another cell.

The Death Eater said in a drawling voice:

It's okay, are you done playing? Now, if you value your life, follow me. I'll try to get you out.

What, what? She stammered.

You are as silly as a Gryffindor.

The man, taking advantage of her momentary dizziness, violently grabbed her by the arm and forcefully dragged her through the corridors. The Death Eater did not inspire any trust in her, but he was her only hope. So she resolved to obey him. They had to repeatedly hide to let guard patrols pass and take detours in the ministry's underground passages she hadn't known existed until then. It must be said that she had only come once at the end of the last war to verify that the universal declaration of wizards' rights was being respected. Or rather, that it wasn't. She had understood from her first day that her report had no other purpose than to make it appear that procedures had been followed. At the time, she hadn't understood how the great Dumbledore could tolerate such abuses. Even less that he would validate the censorship of her work. Now, she glimpsed the reasons that had motivated the venerable wizard.

They finally arrived at the level of the hall, near the fireplaces that were now sealed off. But at their feet lay an unconscious guard. Her guardian angel forcefully placed her on his back and assumed a combat position. Without warning, he cast an extremely vicious dark magic spell towards what seemed to be an empty corner of the room, but an incantation resounded and it loudly struck a shield.

To his great surprise, he then lowered his wand and said with surprise:

Nott!

He removed his hood and she could see that it was the young man who had locked her in the underground earlier.

Malfoy. Responded a voice without emotion. Immediately after, two boys the same age as her savior appeared. But they did not lower their wands. The first thought that came to Constance was: 'they are so young'.

What are you doing here? Are you flaunting your mudblood heritage?

The one who seemed to be targeted by the racist insult replied:

And you, did you finally find someone desperate enough to sleep with you? Unless you like them mature?

Constance was offended, but fear kept her silent. But Malfoy was not as restrained as she was:

You filthy vermin, you should already be grateful that I let you breathe the same air as me.

Stop! Ordered the one who must have been Nott. He had not raised his voice, but he had pronounced this simple word with such authority that everyone fell silent, waiting for what would come next.

Malfoy. We are two and you are alone. You can't win so surrender.

Mudblood counts for half a wizard. His protector spat without showing any sign of surrendering.

You filthy little (..) began the so-called mudblood, but Nott stopped him with a gesture. Malfoy continued with satisfaction in his irritating drawl:

And anyway, a duel would attract too much attention. Besides, the sound of my spell hitting your shield must have already alerted the guards that you haven't already stunned. If I were you, I would flee before they arrive.

So that you attack us from behind. I would rather try to fight you and escape afterwards. Replied the Muggle-born.

Certainly, you seem in a hurry to die. But fortunately for you, I have other fish to fry. Let my guest go and I promise to youLet me be stupefied. Whatever you came here to do, it suits me. I was just wondering how I was going to manage to hide my role in his escape.

Nott seems intrigued:

Who is she?

I don't see why you would need to know.

I am Constance Webb. Sent from the international confederation. She said, annoyed at being treated as if she were not present in the room.

Did I give you permission to speak, you filthy hag? Malfoy insulted automatically.

But it was apparently the thing to do, because the two young men lowered their wands in turn.

Madam, my name is Justin Finch-Fletchley and he is Theodore Nott. Excuse me for my remark earlier. It is you we have come to find. Come with us and we will escort you to Hogwarts (...)

No, she must leave the country before the master realizes her disappearance. Malfoy shouted, almost hysterically.

And how do you want to do that? Our only chance to cross the barrier is to take him to Hogwarts so that what's left of the Ministry gives him an international Portkey.

No way am I putting my life in the hands of those corrupt incompetents! She is leaving the country, period. The outside world absolutely needs to know what's happening here if we hope for the confederation to intervene.

Malfoy, thank you for your help, but (…)

I don't help mudbloods, I just want to see the scarred one die.

As you wish, I don't like it either, but I assure you we have no choice.

Very well, do as you wish. Malfoy finally conceded upon hearing footsteps in the distance.

He threw Constance roughly in their direction.

Stun me before you leave. And make sure it's convincing or (…)

Stupefy. Shouted Justin

He put so much power into the spell that Malfoy was thrown into the air and violently hit the wall. His lifeless body then collapsed onto the floor. Blood ran down his skull. Nott looked at Justin sternly.

What? He said it had to be convincing. Justin defended himself.

Nott sighed, but decided to move on and motioned for Constance to follow him. None of them noticed that a rat was following them to the place where Blaise was keeping their thestrals.

Okay, get on behind me. Ordered Nott. With a bit of luck, we'll be at Hogwarts before the alarm is raised.

No. Constance simply affirmed.

How come no? Said Nott.

I cannot leave until I have completed my investigation, explained the diplomat.

Because you haven't seen enough, perhaps? Blaise asked incredulously.

It is precisely because I have seen too much that I will not leave until I am sure I have enough evidence to convince even the most reluctant members of the confederation. Unfortunately, I know from experience that my memories or my testimony under Veritaserum will not be enough. I would need other evidence.

We don't care about your reports. All we want is to get out of here with you. Shouted Blaise.

I didn't go through all that for nothing. Thank you for saving me, but from now on, I'll manage on my own. Just give me a thestral and I'll be on my way.

Nott cast a quick glance at the other two. They were all thinking the same thing. If he let her go now, goodbye to their tickets to the continent. After a moment, he nodded:

It's too dangerous to travel alone. Besides, you can't even see the thestrals. He stated as he saw her staring into the void a few centimeters from the head of his thestral. Promise us that we can come with you to Switzerland and accompany you. Where do you want to go?

I can manage on my own and you are too young for me to...

Where do you want to go? Nott cut her off authoritatively as he mounted his thestral.

To Azkaban.

Investigation at Azkaban

A magnificent new day was dawning, thought Voldemort as he heard the screams of the tormented waking him. With a wicked smile on his lips, he rose from the antique four-poster bed of Hogwarts, which, along with a vanishing cabinet, was the only piece of furniture in the otherwise spacious room of the former Ministry of Magic apartments. Voldemort did not want to waste his time with unnecessary decorations.

He motioned to the immense serpent sleeping at the foot of his bed to follow him as he walked slowly to the balcony overlooking the ministry hall. Thus, he could start each of his days by observing the tiny cockroaches who, night and day, worked for him and, if necessary, punish those who, unaware of their master's gaze, lacked diligence in their work. It was through small actions of this kind that he had been able, despite his frail appearance, to gradually instill a sense of permanent oppression, then terror, and finally blind obedience among the many unmarked officials he had had to recruit urgently.

Voldemort smiled at this spectacle. It was now a veritable anthill of devoted servants bustling before his eyes. They were now numerous enough that he no longer needed to directly impose his power on his subjects. Soon, it would be over with having to play the savior of the wizarding world in front of those pitiable little nobles. Already, some had seen the winds change and hastened to reaffirm their submission. Of course, there would be some stupid or idealistic enough to want to rebel. However, he hoped that the rumor of what happened to Edgard Guzman and the other dissidents would spread quickly enough to terrorize them at the mere thought of daring to defy him. Despite their congenital stupidity, even the most foolish of his subjects would inevitably understand such a simple message: regardless of your rank or crime, you will not escape the vengeful gaze of Lord Voldemort.

Finally, Harry Potter, he thought, almost laughing. Thanks to the denunciation letters that well-meaning neighbors sent him by the hundreds, he knew that in the secret minds and hearts of English wizards, Potter was becoming the new dark lord, relegating Voldemort to second place.

Ultimately, Umbridge had done him a favor. How would he have managed without such a good enemy to justify his kidnappings, the climate of terror, and finally the genuflections? On the other hand, without her, he wouldn't have had to do all that to take control of the United Kingdom. But that would have been a waste. In addition to extremely slowly strengthening his magical core at the cost of part of the chanters' lifespan, this ritual was remarkably entertaining.

Knock, knock, knock.

Enter! Voldemort spat angrily when knocks were struck at the door. He hated being interrupted in his thoughts.

Immediately, Peter entered and prostrated himself before him, crawling like a worm to his feet on the expensive carpet. This calmed Voldemort. For a reason he didn't understand since his resurrection, the sight of the rat relaxed him.

Monseigneur, sorry to disturb you so early in the morning, but I must inform you of urgent news.

If it's good news, speak, otherwise be silent. I don't want your incompetence to spoil this wonderful morning.

At his words, he made a careless gesture with his hand, another crucified body joined the pyre. To his great pleasure, a huge scream echoed throughout the hall. Apparently, this one was still breathing. Then he wondered if by finishing him off, he hadn't done a good deed and frowned.

My Lord, I fear that this cannot wait…

Silence! And thank Merlin that I am in a lenient mood today. Next time you feel like questioning my orders, you will join them. Voldemort threatened, pointing at the chained wizards who were chanting the long litany of power amplification that the sorcerer-kings of Mesopotamia had imposed on their clergy when they pretended to be gods.

His eyes filled with terror, Peter tried to bow even lower, but only managed to hit his head on the ground.

Pathetic. Don't just stand there, fool, and make yourself useful. Contact that meddler Rita Skeeter and ask her what she has learned about Dumbledore. It's time for her to prove that I was right to spare her. Voldemort commanded, hoping to finally get answers to his questions.

Voldemort had never been interested in his old enemy's past. In fact, after his death, he had done everything to forget him (and his last affront). However, upon discovering the two intact arches amidst the remains charred by the Fiendfyre of the Department of Mysteries, he had been forced to reconsider his judgment. Normally, he wouldn't have even paid attention to the arch. Unlike the Ravenclaws, he was only interested in knowledge and riddles when they could be useful to him, and the research on the strange magic surrounding the arch was far too theoretical to be of any use before the end of this war.

However, when he had approached, he had immediately understood that these arches were linked to the Deathly Hallows. That day, he had almost crossed to the other side, his magic drawn by something in the event horizon that wished to return at any cost, even if it meant destroying him. Fortunately, the magic of the arch was identical to that of the Hallows, and thanks to it, he had been able to tame it. Since then, as if it had started sulking, the veils had become mere pieces of cloth animated by nothing. He had naively thought that the Hallows were the only artifacts using such powerful and ... disturbing magic. He was wrong and had almost paid a heavy price for it.

He was now determined to learn as much as possible about these things, but once again Dumbledore had stood in his way. During the last weeks before his death, the old wizard had methodically retrieved all the books talking about the three brothers. The old fool knew something he didn't want him to discover. However, he had no desire to delve into the long succession of hypocritical sentimentality that must have constituted his life, and had therefore delegated the task to that Rita Skeeter who had done such a good job in recent months discrediting his enemies.

But he pushed that out of his mind and, without paying more attention to Wormtail, he headed with his snake towards the private elevator that would take him to the ministry's hall. Then something came back to him.

Before leaving, find Drago and tell him that he can come clean my room and that if upon my return I find even a speck of dust, he will spend the night locked in the closet again.

Very well, master. Queudver bowed one last time.

After a descent that lasted less than two seconds, the doors of the golden elevator opened with a characteristic chime. Immediately, everyone stopped their activity to kneel before him. He barely glanced at this routine spectacle and sat on his throne. It was then that he noticed it. Fear tainted the atmosphere. Even more than usual.

Is there no limit to your incompetence? What have you done to disappoint me again?

A few minutes and explanations later.

IMBECILE. AVADA KEDAVRA, you are barely worth more than mudbloods. AVADA KEDAVRA!

Voldemort continued to insult them and randomly cast avadas until the last Death Eater had run out of the room. Then, in front of the chained prisoners who were so terrified that they had stopped their chanting, he let his anger explode in a surge of magic that shattered all the windows in the hall and cracked some walls in a dreadful noise that made the poor souls trapped with him fear (or hope) that the place would collapse. The satisfaction of seeing that his host's magic had significantly progressed helped him calm down. Without a word, he sat on his throne. Constance's escape would force him to hasten his plans.

But perhaps this was a blessing in disguise. He would have preferred to have more troops and complete control of England before moving on to the next stage, but perhaps it was a sign that he was wasting time on futile precautions. Yes, it was time for him to finally get down to serious business.

oOoOoOoOo

When do we arrive? asked Justin.

We would have arrived earlier if you hadn't vomited over Liverpool.

If we didn't make so many turns as well.

They had been flying along the coast for several hours now—at an astonishing speed—in search of the sinister fortress of Azkaban, without taking time to sleep. This was the strategy they had decided to adopt when the thestrals had suddenly lost all sense of direction and began to circle more and more nervously. Apparently, something in the area was disturbing the animals and preventing them from using their navigation instinct to lead them to their destination. They consoled themselves by thinking that at least it probably meant they were in the right place.

Their research had been so long that the sun was beginning to gently rise on the horizon. Even though this meant it would be harder to remain discreet and they would have to take even more detours to avoid being noticed by Muggles (or possible sentinels), they were all so frozen that they couldn't help but welcome the first rays of light with hope. They had expected to be cold while flying so fast and had equipped themselves accordingly, but for the past few kilometers, they had been facing a real ice storm. They knew that the temperatures of the North Sea were not particularly pleasant at the end of summer, but they never would have thought they would have to face such harsh weather. Despite everything, they had little compassion for the prisoners who had been locked up for years in the terrible prison without any protection against the cold. During their journey and their visit to the ministry, they had seen what they were capable of. It had taken a lot of effort for Nott to convince Justin that he couldn't free them all without raising the alarm.

Look! exclaimed Blaise.

Everyone looked in the direction pointed out by Blaise and saw with fear the top of a black tower pointed in the distance. All of a sudden, they were no longer in such a hurry to end this endless sleepless night. Without needing to consult each other, they pulled on the reins of their thestrals and forced them to hover next to each other.

Well, what's the plan asked Justin?

Make her not say that we have to go inside. Make them not say that we have to go inside. Blaise began to recite aloud.

I need to go inside. You can wait outside and keep watch. Constance corrected.

Excellent plan. Blaise immediately approved.

Excellent, if we want to have done all that for nothing. Against Nott. It is not so easy to infiltrate Azkaban. Besides, what exactly do you hope to find there?

I absolutely need to know what is happening there. According to the Ministry of Magic, that's where the Death Eaters send all their opponents. I must find out what happens to them.

Is that all!? You made us travel halfway across the country just to know what it's like to be exposed to the Dementors!? If we didn't need you alive so much, I would give you a glimpse of it myself. Nott vilified as she turned around.

Théo!

I am able to defend myself, Mr. Finch-Fletchey. As for you, young man, I ask you to mind your manners. Even though the journey may have been exhausting, that is no reason to behave in such a manner. What would your parents say if they saw you behaving like this?

Seeing the looks of terror on the faces of the other two, she realized that she had just said something she shouldn't have and began to feel afraid. Perhaps she should have waited until she was no longer 400 meters above the raging ocean to admonish the driver of her frail mount. But against all odds, he burst out laughing. It was a cold laugh that sounded more like a cry of pain than an expression of joy. Once he calmed down, he turned to her again with an expressionless look from which all emotion had been erased:

Obviously, I am too tired to continue. Let's find a safe place to rest, then you will explain to us what you came to look for in this rat hole, so that we can come up with a plan. But I warn you, if you don't give us a good reason to risk our necks, I will...

But the end of his sentence was replaced by a shiver of cold and a feeling of unease overwhelmed him. He looked at the sky and had the impression that the sun had reversed its course. The world was becoming dark again, and it was as if no light would ever pierce the black clouds that gradually obscured his vision. Suddenly, Nott started to think back to his mother's funeral and then relive the event. As at the time, he felt that all joy had deserted him and that he would never be able to smile again.

That's when Justin shouted:

Dementor!!

Without waiting, Justin and Blaise launched their thestral at full speed towards the coast. With a little tap on the back from Constance, he regained his senses and rushed in their direction. It didn't take him long to catch up to them, but to his greatest horror, he realized that the soul eaters had set a trap for them. In front of them stood a wall of Dementors who, despite theimpressive aerial maneuvers of their Thestral, was closing in on them little by little. The first creatures they had encountered were merely beaters tasked with leading them to their doom. Nott did not know that Dementors were so intelligent, but he had read that the more souls they absorbed, the more their intelligence increased. Nott did not dare to think about what that implied and drew his wand and shouted without really believing it:

Exptecto patronum.

A faint mist came out of his wand. Despite all his father's efforts, Nott had never been able to produce anything better. However, by focusing the spell on part of the Dementors' device, he was eventually able to break through a hole in their defense where the Thestrals rushed in without waiting for orders from their riders. After a few seconds that seemed like an eternity, they finally saw the coast. And that's when hell broke loose.

All of a sudden, they found themselves in the midst of a rain of spells coming from the pebble beach. Most missed them, but some hit the wings of their thestral, which lost altitude at great speed. Throughout the descent, Nott felt as if his mind was filled with cotton. He knew he should have done something, but his mind, not yet recovered from his encounter with the dementor and a sleepless night of flight and anxiety, was numb. He owed it only to the conditioning from his father's training that he didn't faint at the moment of impact. But that might have been better, he thought, seeing the soul eaters quickly catch up with them and surround them.

He repeated the Patronus charm over and over, and a thin layer of whitish mist covered them, but the creatures had no trouble breaking through it, and he began to hear his mother's gentle voice asking him to forgive her. He knew what would happen next, so he closed his eyes and screamed with all his might:

Exptecto patronum.

But nothing happens. He repeated the formula with increasing despair, soon followed by Blaise, Justin, and Constance, but very quickly they all fainted and he saw his mother taking ...

NO! He shouted, casting a stinging spell on his thigh.

The pain briefly brought him back to his senses. Long enough to see a Dementor lift Justin and slowly bring him closer to its mouth. All of a sudden, the smiling faces of Blaise, Justin, and even Harry imposed themselves on his mind (a Harry without the cruel look that currently distorted his features).

Expecto patronum.

This time, it was a gigantic badger that emerged from his wand and charged at the hundred dementors. Staggering on his legs, Nott approached Justin and was relieved to see that the dementor had done nothing to him. However, he couldn't stay here. He tried to lift his friend but only managed to collapse to the ground. It was then that a strong hand pulled him to his feet.

Leave it, I'll take care of it.

The stranger to whom this voice belonged took Justin in his arms and ordered him to follow. Despite his mistrust, Nott found enough strength to follow him to a shepherd's hut lost in the moor where he could finally collapse from exhaustion.

oOoOoOoOoOo

The sun was high in the sky when Justin was awakened by the smell of hot chocolate.

Drink, kid. It's probably nonsense, but the locals say it keeps the spirits of the shipwrecked away. Said a man in his thirties with a long dirty beard, sitting next to him.

The what? Asked Justin once the hot chocolate had finished reviving them.

It is a local legend told by the fishermen.

The man cleared his throat and recited in a deep voice:

Near the peak of the shipwreck, permanently covered in fog even in the midday sun, one can sometimes see souls in distress emerging from the mist, seeking to steal the souls of overly curious sailors. Legend has it that during great festive moments, ghosts attracted by the explosion of life drag themselves to the coast to seize good feelings in a vain attempt to regain their lost lives. To free themselves from their enchantment, the love of their loved ones and a good dose of chocolate would be necessary.

While the thirty-something with the gruff look was telling him his story, Justin complied and drank his hot chocolate. Théodore would no doubt have killed him for being so unguarded, but a glance told him that his friend (still asleep on an improvised pallet next to Blaise and Constance) was in no condition to reproach him. He didn't know what had happened after the Dementors had surrounded them, but obviously the man had taken them in and protected them, even though he was in a bad state.

Who are you? Asked Justin.

I am Tom Hunter, a private detective specializing in paranormal phenomena. He said, handing him a card with a phone number and a logo resembling a detective chasing a ghost.

Cool! Couldn't help but exclaim Justin. I'm Justin Finch-Fletchey.

Nice to meet you, Justin. Now, if you have recovered enough, I would like to ask you a few questions?

By reflex, Justin tensed up, which did not escape the expert eye of Tom Hunter.

Apparently, we have a few things to blame ourselves for. But believe me, I'm hunting much bigger fish than you and your friends. Unless you have something to do with the disappearances? he asked in a falsely relaxed manner. All of a sudden, Justin noticed the gun on his belt and wondered where his wand was.

Disappearances? What disappearances?

Don't mess with me. All the surrounding villages have been emptied of their inhabitants and my client's daughter disappeared during her vacation with friends in the area.

Strange place for a vacation.

Don't change the subject. Why are your little friends kidnapping all these people? What are you up to?

Which friends?

Oh yes, and what is that? he said, brandishing their magic wand. By reflex, Justin tried to grab his own, but the man put it out of his reach. Justin realized he had just made a mistake. He took advantage of the awkward silence that settled between them to think. The man had helped them and he already knew a lot. What harm would there be in telling him the truth? Anyway, he had never been a big fan of the law of magical secrecy.

Yes, we are wizards, but we have nothing to do with the dark lord's minions. If you are monitoring the area, you must have seen that they attacked us.

The Dark Lord!? Is there a connection with Harry Potter?

Justin replied without thinking:

Harry has nothing to do with the Dark Lord. He would never harm anyone. The Dark Lord possesses him. Wait, how do you know Harry? You're not a Muggle?

It's a long story. But let's say that thanks to him, my superiors finally had a solid excuse to fire me from the police.

Oh! I am sorry.

There's no reason. First of all, it's normal for me to own up to my mistakes. But above all, it was an opportunity. I wasn't cut out for police work. In this job, I feel truly useful. Well, when I find work. But don't change the subject. If you're not with them, what are you doing here?

Justin hesitated before answering:

What tells me that you're not pretending to be a Muggle so we tell you everything?

We're not in a cheap novel here. No one uses such complicated schemes.

You don't know what the Dark Lord is capable of. Since he returned, everyone distrusts everyone else, families are tearing each other apart, no one knows what the truth is, or even if there is one.

If my brief experience has taught me anything, it is that the truth is elsewhere.

That's X-Files. Justin replied with a smile.

Trapped. In my defense, I wouldn't have thought that wizards knew X-files.

They don't watch. In fact, most don't even know what a TV is.

Justin was about to continue, but froze for a few seconds before saying:

I know what you are doing. You are trying to create a sense of trust and familiarity to get me to talk. My mother does the same when she dines with politicians.

Maybe. Does it work?

Yes. If I am sure of one thing, it is that none of the servants of the lord of darkness know X-files. We came for the same reason as you: to discover what is happening here.

Aren't you a bit young to play detective? Where are your parents? And who is this woman? Tom inundated him with questions with a morbid eagerness now that Justin seemed willing to talk.

Théo will kill me when he finds out that I spilled everything to a stranger.

And he will be right. Please continue, I beg you. Tom replied, giving him a huge chocolate bar as a bribe. Justin took a few minutes to think about how to explain the situation to a Muggle.

Our parents fled abroad just before the Dark Lord took power, but we got stuck here and the only way we can join them is if what's left of the Ministry gives us one of the Portkeys created before He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named blocked all entry and exit from the island.

It's because of the wizards that we can't leave the United Kingdom anymore, since the attacks of August 11!? Wait, are you the August 11 attacks?

Justin acquiesced.

Lord! After a moment of silence, Tom asked: so if I guess this woman is a smuggler paid by your parents to help you flee the country inpassing through a sparsely monitored area of the North Sea on these winged horses of nightmares?

Have you seen our Thestrals?

Yes, of course. It's hard to miss them. Before you ask, after you fainted, men wearing black robes and white masks came to inspect the area and took them. I don't know where they took them, and I have no desire to ask them.

Justin took advantage of the man's explanations to decide whether it was worth correcting the version proposed by the Muggle. The Slytherins had a bad influence on him, he decided before pointing to Constance and explaining:

Constance is not a smuggler, but a representative of the international magical federation sent to investigate what is happening here. The dark lord captured her as soon as she arrived and imprisoned her in London. When it was learned, Theodore saw it as a good opportunity to leave the country. At least that's what he says. Anyway, we borrowed thestrals from Hogwarts and went to London to free her, hoping we could accompany her to Switzerland and then join our parents in France. We got really lucky, which allowed us to free her without taking any risks, but she refuses to leave the country until she has enough evidence to force the federation to intervene. So, we decided to serve as her guides. We don't know why, but she insisted that we bring her here.

I didn't understand everything about your story, but I think I know what she's hoping to find here. You say she's here to put an end to all this.

Ideally, yes. Justin replied nervously.

Then there is no time to lose. Exclaimed Tom Hunter.

In front of Justin's astonished gaze, the man stood up and threw a huge bucket of water on Constance, who continued to sleep like a log.

Shit, you wouldn't happen to know a spell to wake someone who's been given a massive dose of sleeping pills, by any chance. Asked Tom Hunter.

I need my wand. Said Justin, glancing at the pocket of his jacket where he had stored their wands.

They are in the trunk outside next to the watering can.

Huh!? Justin exclaimed without the slightest elegance.

If I had been stupid enough to keep your wands within reach, while I didn't know which side you were on, those guys out there would have captured me a long time ago.

oOoOoOoOo

It was exhausted that 2 days later, Théodore, Blaise, Justin, and Constance arrived in view of Hogwarts in the car that Tom Hunter had lent them. It wasn't that the journey was long between Hogwarts and Azkaban, but that Justin had a lot of trouble understanding how the gearbox of the antique that Tom had lent them worked and only realized too late that the needle that kept going down was the fuel gauge. Not to mention that he had to stop regularly to allow the three wizards to vomit while cursing the Muggles and their diabolical inventions. In short, the only positive point he would remember from this return journey was that he went unnoticed by traveling like Muggles (except for a few Muggle policewomen whom a well-placed Confundus Charm convinced that he was old enough to drive).

However, despite the joy that seized them at the prospect of the end of this journey and the return to safety, everyone was in a gloomy mood. TheThe contents of Constance's briefcase occupied their minds too much for them to rejoice. After waking them, Tom had explained everything he knew. For an entire afternoon, he had shown them photos of Muggles from the surrounding areas being forcibly taken onto trains bound for the nearest port to Azkaban, deserted villages, and especially the testimony of an 8-year-old girl who had managed to escape from the fortress and whom Tom Hunter had found half-drowned on the coast.

Blaise and Theodore did not want to believe it. Blaise claimed that never would wizards stoop to that. And Justin would have undoubtedly supported him if at school he had not seen images of magical concentration camps. Images that strangely resembled what Azkaban had become.

When a new group of prisoners was brought to the island, the former prisoners (whose will to resist had been annihilated by the constant presence of Dementors) were embraced, then the new prisoners were forced to move the hundreds of bodies into a vast warehouse kept refrigerated by the mere presence of the soul-eaters who absorbed all traces of heat. There, before their horrified eyes, lay thousands of bodies of all ages, which they understood were their predecessors from days past. Nevertheless, this sight, far from revolting them, finished destroying the meager hope that the Dementors had not yet consumed. It was then, docilely, that most returned to the now-empty cages so that the Dementors could feed there while waiting for the next delivery.

That should have been the fate of the little girl, but the next day (or rather what the little girl thought was the next day, given that she had lost all sense of time in the cell where she had been locked up), a great nervousness seized the shadow creatures who began to fly around in a disorderly manner. Then she was overcome by a strange unease. A feeling even worse than that caused by the presence of the dementors took hold of her. A deep unease that was not a happy feeling and that the dementors could not take from her. She did not know why she was the only prisoner to have felt it (Tom suggested she was a seer and Constance that she was a Muggle-born witch), but in any case, the first thing she heard when she regained consciousness was a mad laugh.

In movies or video games, she had always found mad scientist laughs funny, but at that moment she couldn't imagine anything more terrifying. Then the feeling of unease stopped, and for a while, everything seemed calm, motionless. Even the Dementors remained static and seemed disturbed by what they had just witnessed. Then gigantic doors opened, and a crowd emerged, walking slowly towards the docks. She didn't immediately understand why, but upon seeing them, she was gripped by a visceral fear that went beyond anything she had known. A primal fear rooted in her deepest instincts. Then, among the crowd, she recognized a familiar face. It was her brother's teacher who lived in a neighboring village from which she hadn't heard any news for a week. She called out to him, but he ignored her. When he passed in front of her cell, she managed to grab his long coat, which should have been out of place in the middle of summer. And finally, his gaze turned towards her. A gaze devoid of any life. He was no longer the man she had known. No longer a man at all.

All coherent thought had deserted the girl's mind. All she wanted was to escape from here. It was then that the door opened without her understanding why (which supported Constance's theory). Once freed, she ran without stopping in the opposite direction of the undead. She passedIn front of the immense warehouse now empty, then turned until she exited the fortress through a door that must have once been used to take prisoners for a walk. She followed the coast trembling until she slipped on the edge of the cliff. After that, she remembered nothing except that she had swum to exhaustion in a randomly chosen direction.

The conclusion was simple and yet completely implausible. Voldemort had begun exterminating all the Muggles in the area to create Inferi. Theodore had no trouble believing that the Death Eaters were committing such atrocities. He was even certain that they did so with boundless joy. However, he was keen to point out that it was absurd to think that anyone could create so many Inferi. It was not a question of magical power, but of strength of soul. To reanimate a body, the dark wizard had to infuse it with a part of his own vital essence (or that of a sacrifice, but Inferi thus created often turned against their creator). If the Dark Lord had indeed acquired such abilities, then he was closer to a god than to a man, and no one could ever defeat him, Theodore thought.

But he did not want to elaborate too much in Constance's presence. Firstly, because he had no certainty about what had really happened, but also because he was afraid that if he explained to her where his knowledge of creating inferis came from, she would refuse to take him with her to Europe (despite everything they had done for her). Nott was used to being judged primarily on his name. Or rather on his father's.

In any case, to their great relief, Constance declared that she had all the evidence she needed and that it was not necessary to go to Azkaban (or elsewhere) to find more. So they left in the night with Tom's only means of transport (who insisted on staying). Apparently, a group of Muggle resistance fighters who had escaped the raids had formed with the aim of trying to slow down the Death Eaters as much as possible or to find a way to alert the Muggle authorities. For the moment, they had only managed to pass for madmen or narrowly escaped being captured by the Death Eaters, but that was no reason to give up. And then his client had paid in advance and he still hadn't found his daughter, Tom added as if that still mattered.

It was with a mind caught in a fog of fatigue (and other less pleasant feelings) that they followed the border guards of the enclave who took them to Hogwarts, where they were welcomed as heroes, first by Percy, then by an Umbridge whose predatory smile only grew larger as Constance recounted the story of their macabre discovery. It was excited like a child who had just been given a Firebolt for Christmas that she made long arabesques with her wand to open a huge safe hidden behind a piece of furniture in her office from which she took out a tin can. She handed it to Constance, almost shouting that she had to go tell the federation everything immediately. It was for this moment that despite their obvious fatigue and the little sympathy they had for Umbridge, the three teenagers insisted on attending this meeting.

Constance kept her promise and insisted that Théodore, Justin, and Blaise accompany her. Umbridge accepted without complaint. She didn't care about the fate of the teenagers, and as far as she was concerned, Constance could take any of the freeloaders who had moved near her ministry in the hope of getting some protection.

On the other hand, she was more disappointed when Percy Weasley refused a well-deserved promotion that would have made him the number two at the ministry. Instead, he asked for his sister and brother to be allowed to travel regularly to Europe. Umbridge hesitated for a few seconds before granting his request. The young man of noble lineage had proven to be an indefatigable workhorse, extremely competent, and endowed with an impeccable sense of ethics. Too impeccable. He was one of her few close collaborators over whom she had no leverage, and his rapid rise within the ministry worried her. Even a blind person would have seen a threat in such capabilities associated with such a prestigious name. As with all somewhat ambitious Weasleys, his unwavering loyalty to his family was his only weakness, and consequently, she wanted to keep his most impressionable relatives under her control. Nevertheless, she had no valid argument to refuse him this favor, and that snake had been careful to make his request in the presence of that little fool sent by the federation. Defeated, she agreed.

Half an hour later, after saying goodbye to the Dursleys and Dobby (who preferred to stay in the hope of being able to help Harry and whom Umbridge wanted to keep as a bargaining chip), Theodore, Justin, Constance, and Blaise pressed against a furious Ginny who was being forcibly pushed aside with immense relief. They were about to touch the tin can that would send them far from this nightmare when Percy's voice interrupted them.

Wait, you're forgetting Fred.

The latter, who had insisted on accompanying them to say goodbye (and especially to make sure Ginny left), replied with a small smile:

You can't force me to leave. Since last week, I'm of legal age.

Percy turned as red as a peony and yelled at him in an outraged tone.

I don't care what this stupid law says. You are 16 years old, you are a minor.

If he stays, then I will too. Said Ginny.

No, you, you're leaving. Said the two brothers in unison.

Listen Percy, it's too late. I've already joined the militia.

What did you do? You could have talked to me about it before?

But I told you about it. And you always brushed me off.

Don't tell me they agreed to hire someone so young?

You know as well as I do that if Umbridge lowered the age of majority, it's to recruit more easily. And I'm not the only one. There are plenty of people from my year who have signed up. Anyway, since classes are not resuming and ration tickets are becoming less and less sufficient, what else can we do?

I am going to see Umbridge immediately and force her to listen to me. Hogwarts is a school, not a training camp for child soldiers. And you, you won't get away with this.

Percy went away furious while Fred made sure Ginny left safely with their group.

Finally, they touched a can with their eyes closed. When they reopened them, they couldn't help but fall to their knees before the magnificent mountainous landscapes of Geneva. A weight they hadn't been aware of carrying disappeared from their shoulders.

oOoOoOo

Author's note: One day, I hope to have the inspiration and time to write a special edition on the fantastic investigations of Tom Hunter. I haven't had the opportunity to feature him much, but I love this character. But if I write it, thiswill be in a long time. I already have a list as long as my arm of projects I want to start once this fic is finished.

International reaction

A few days later.

All the wizards present shuddered when the dozens of translation charms scattered throughout the amphitheater were activated.

Silence in the room. I declare the 587th meeting of the International Confederation of Wizards open. Please rise to welcome the venerable President Babajide Akingbade.

The hundred wizards gathered in the chamber stood up and applauded as a stern-looking 60-year-old man entered, replacing Dumbledore at the head of the Confederation.

Thank you for your hospitality. As tradition dictates, I would have liked to start this session with a minute of silence in honor of the death of my illustrious predecessor. However, I fear we have no time to lose. As you know, England is in a critical situation. Its ministry has practically collapsed and the majority of the territory is now controlled by the dark lord.

At these words, a wave of protest swept through the room. This did not surprise Babajide. He knew that many members of the confederation had sided with Potter. Even he, despite the admiration he had for Dumbledore, found it hard to believe that a child could pose a threat. Not to mention that the lucrative trade and reconstruction agreements Potter had been promising since he took power would have convinced any hesitator to side with him.

Yes, I know that many do not want to believe it, but it is the truth. As you all know, the agents we sent to try to protect the magical secret or establish the truth about the tragic events that have mourned our two worlds have mysteriously disappeared.

We know very well what happened. Umbridge… One of the delegates interrupted him, but Babajide silenced him with a look and continued, raising his voice:

Except for one who, at the risk of his life, completed his mission and joined the Hogwarts enclave to communicate the results of his investigation to us. It is therefore with full knowledge that I have weighed my words. But I fear that at this stage no speech can convince you. They did not convince me either. I therefore propose that you see the evidence collected by our agent at the risk of his life. I would specify before anything else that upon his arrival our agent was captured by the Dark Lord. And yes, I insist, it was indeed Potter and not Umbridge who attacked her. Her memories and her interrogation under veritaserum are clear on this point. She owes her survival and her escape from the Dark Lord's dungeons only to the courage of the rescue team put together by the British Minister of Magic.

It's a bad spy novel he's telling us there. Exclaimed the same voice with sarcasm, but everyone ignored it.

Babajide snapped his fingers and immediately, the mural behind him, which depicted wizards shaking hands, became a huge mirror where Constance's memories were projected, horrifying all the delegates present in the room. Once the memories ended, a file with a copy of all the photos and evidence brought by Constance appeared in front of the delegates. The delegates merely skimmed through it quickly, lingering over the photos showing Death Eaters rampaging in Muggle villages.

I think her images speak for themselves and for those who still have doubts, Constance is ready to answer all your questions. However, I must point out that the situation poses a risk to all theMembers of this assembly. The chaos currently reigning in Great Britain and the imprisonment of our agents make it impossible to obliviate the Muggle witnesses of magical acts. Despite the efforts of the English Muggle government, rumors are spreading. And even in our lands, more and more Muggles are questioning the sudden isolation and contrary to our most fundamental laws that the Dark Lord imposes on the United Kingdom.

Babajide chose this moment to pause, which the delegates used as he had anticipated to express their indignation and demand immediate action. Then, when he felt he had achieved the desired effect, he continued:

That is why, for the first time in our long history, I propose that the confederation declare war and establish a large army capable of quickly restoring order and security.

The reactions were much more nuanced. Instead of the applause he had hoped for (without really believing it), the room filled with a murmur of discussions, then a few shouts were heard.

Who tells us that this army will not be used against us once the English problem is resolved?

Who will lead it? There is no way our Obeathe warriors will obey a Thazarein!

Anyway, you are too cowardly to be useful. We will do without your services.

Who will pay?

Repeat what you just said to see?!

This is completely against the law.

If we declare war on them, what will happen to our nationals?

We must try to negotiate before declaring war!

SILENCE!

The voice of the president of the assembly resonated in the room and put an end to the various disputes that had begun to break out.

Before we continue our discussions in a more courteous manner, I would like you to listen to Miss Umbridge, who leads the only enclave still resisting the Dark Lord in the United Kingdom.

He snapped his fingers again and the image of Umbridge's office appeared on the large mirror.

Ladies and gentlemen, delegates of the different communities, for those who do not know me yet, let me introduce myself. I am Dolores Umbridge and I have the honor of speaking to you as the new Minister of Magic of the United Kingdom. In doing so, I will undoubtedly violate all conventions, but I beg you to kindly send us all the help you can gather.

Believe me, it is not with a light heart that I beg today, but you are our last hope. We are not only facing a former group of Death Eaters, but Harry Potter. Like many of you, I thought he was a mediocre wizard who just got very lucky, but it turned out that his victory at the age of one owed nothing to luck. His powers (...), they have nothing in common with those of You-Know-Who. Even Merlin himself would not be able to oppose him.

But do not think that I am telling you this to elicit your pity. If I am telling you, it is to convince you that it is your duty, but also in your interest, to intervene as soon as possible. This army of Inferi that he is so carefully assembling, who do you think it is intended for? Do you think he will be contentTo rule over England? No. If you do not help us to exterminate the evil at its root, it will strengthen, and when it is ready, it will launch a great assault on the rest of the world.

One last thing to those who would downplay the threat by making jokes about the age of our adversary. First of all, know that he is no longer alone. Most of the nobles support him, and he has built a large army by instituting conscription in all the territories he controls and...

Umbridge was then interrupted by the violent opening of the assembly door, through which a sweating man who seemed panicked ran in. The voice of the president of the confederation thundered with fury:

What does this interruption mean? I had requested that the doors be locked until I adjourn the meeting.

I am sorry, Mr. President, but the session is suspended. All delegates are urgently recalled by their government.

The room filled with a hubbub where panic began to rise. What could possibly motivate such a decision?

What does all this mean? Could this be a very bad joke?

Sir, you should switch the mirror to channel 57.

The Muggle information one?

Yes sir.

I hope for your sake that I will find there a justification for your inexcusable disregard of my instructions.

The president snapped his fingers and immediately, the mirror showed a room located far enough from the main building so that the magical waves would not interfere with the functioning of the TV there. On the screen, the delegates saw an Umbridge, furious with anger, hurling insults at the two star presenters of the BBC while men wearing auror uniforms pointed their wands at the technical team to force them not to interrupt the broadcast.

Do not deny it. Do you know how many wizards have lost their lives because of your ridiculous quarrels? For all my fellow citizens, this cowardly and unjustified attack was a demonstration of the inferiority and danger of the non-magical parasites that inhabit this land. It was not enough for you to condemn us to hide. Now, you murder us in the most cowardly way possible with your most shameful creation. Enough is enough. As the new Minister of Magic, I have come to tell you on behalf of all the wizards on the planet that from now on, we will no longer flee. From now on, it will be an eye for an eye and a tooth for a tooth. And it starts today. Avada Kedavra!

The Aurors following him also uttered the deadly incantation, and everyone present on the set died under the horrified eyes of the viewers.

It is 3:33 PM and you are still on CNN. We want to inform you that, as surprising as it may seem, these images are authentic. Following the events in London, the president has declared a curfew and instituted martial law. He calls on all citizens to remain calm and assures that everything will be done to ensure the safety of American citizens and to shed light on what actually happened in London earlier this afternoon. However, following the loss of contact with the British capital, riots have formed in most cities across the country. Ha! I am being informed right now that images have reached us from London. They were filmed at the risk of theirviewed by our colleagues from Channel 4 and sent via their satellite antenna. I want to warn you that they may shock sensitive individuals.

The presenter faded away and a flickering image of London trampled by giants appeared. The ground was no longer visible due to the massive cloud of debris and ash, but it was clear that most of the towers had been toppled like Lego bricks by the colossal titans. One of them passed in front of the camera. In its hands, it held a woman in her thirties who was screaming. It brought her to its mouth and swallowed her with a terrible noise.

Then a terrible explosion occurred and the giant collapsed. Fighter jets of the English army swept past the camera like a gust of wind and launched two more missiles at another giant, but this time, they were stopped before reaching their target by a huge energy shield that had materialized in front of them.

4 men perched on brooms and wearing the uniform of aurors chased the royal-air-force and the decima without suffering any loss. The missiles or machine guns seemed to have no effect on them. Then, the video stopped.

It's being broadcast on all the Muggle channels around the world. Commented the official who had taken advantage of the astonishment that accompanied these images to catch his breath.

Immediately, the delegates regained their composure and began to leave the room. But before they could exit, the doors closed again and the supreme leader of the confederation spoke in a calm and steady voice that resonated magically throughout the room.

Gentlemen, the congress is not over. Please sit down!

It's over for me. That bitch Umbridge really screwed us over with her ridiculous dark wizard stories. Open this door, Babajide. My family lives in a Muggle neighborhood. I need to get them to safety before the Muggles go wild, declared one of the delegates.

The others approved loudly.

These are not far-fetched stories. You know Constance as well as I do. If she is working with Umbridge, it means all of this is true.

I also know Umbridge. I worked with her a lot when she was Fudge's right-hand woman. She is as racist as she is sadistic. I don't even understand how I could have believed her nonsense for a second. Open this door. I swear if anything happens to my family (…)

Baxter, I know your wife. She is perfectly capable of handling this situation alone. Not to mention that you shouldn't assume the reaction of the Muggles. They have changed a lot in 500 years. If you think the most worrying thing is that the international magical secret has been broken, you are gravely mistaken. The most worrying thing is that for the first time, a dark wizard is not afraid to break the law of secrecy. And this, while he knows full well that it is the only thing capable of forcing foreign wizards to unite against him. For the first time, a dark wizard is not afraid to face all the wizards of the world united against him.

Not having to face all the allied magical creatures. Said a goblin delegation that had just forced its way into the meeting of the international magical confederation, despite the spells cast by the supreme manitou to lock the door.

What does this intrusion mean?

You are not aware? So much the better, we still have time to act. Right after his stunt in London, Voldemort gave us an ultimatum.

Some of the delegates shuddered upon hearing the cursed name. The goblins ignored them and continued:

Either we opened our vaults to him, stopped funding the Hogwarts enclave, and provided him with warriors, or he would annihilate us. Of course, we refused. A few minutes later, atomic bombs exploded at the heart of our branches in Paris, Berlin, Tokyo, Istanbul, Timbuktu, New York, Moscow, Beijing, and New Delhi. He must have asked his accomplices among the nobility to place them in their vaults before the hostilities began. In any case, the result is undeniable. 80% of the magical community's gold is either buried under rubble or irreparably irradiated. As soon as the rumor spreads, the magical financial system will collapse.

Following this announcement, the delegates were struck with astonishment.

At least now we know where the other nine bombs that had disappeared were located, Baxter tried to joke.

Another delegate harangued the goblins

What are you talking about? You-Know-Who is dead. He particularly insisted on the last words. It's another lie from your treacherous race. You are trying to take advantage of the disorder created by Umbridge to seize our gold!

And then, after a while, you should come to an agreement. Who exactly are we fighting against, You-Know-Who? Potter? Umbridge? All three at once? Aren't we being made a bit of a fool? shouted another delegate.

If the situation were not so serious, I would have killed you for such disrespect to the proud Goblin race. But if you are foolish enough to continue denying the return of the Dark Lord, I won't even bother to waste my time despising you. Is this an isolated case or have all wizards decided to bury their heads in the sand hoping that a baby will save them again?

I will not let myself be insulted like this. I'm leaving. Anyway, if you lack gold, you just have to borrow some from your friend the Oracle of Omaha. And don't deny it. Everyone knows he helps you illegally sell our gold on the Muggle markets in exchange for access to centaur divination.

These are just unfounded rumors. However, if that were the case, it would only be the logical consequence of the ridiculously low exchange rate of wizarding gold that you impose on us to avoid subsidizing Muggle-born students. In any case, after the destruction of the City, Muggle finance is also collapsing. The goblin fumed.

But no one was listening to him anymore. Everyone had either left or was arguing. In the end, only a small number of delegates remained to try to agree on a common action on behalf of their nation, but without knowing if they would be followed by the rest of their government.

At the moment when the confederation would have been most useful, it had almost dissolved due to dissensions among its members and lies spread by Voldemort.

Fall of Hogwarts

Meanwhile, in the north of Scotland, black clouds were gathering by the hundreds as a sign that the good weather was over. Around Umbridge, the air was heavy, but it had nothing to do with the late summer weather. Surrounded by her personal guard made up of what was left of the Aurors, she advanced to the top of the cliff overlooking the valley where the Ministry had hastily assembled an army to defend Hogwarts. She swore, thinking that barely an hour earlier she had been speaking before the entire membership of the International Confederation. Merlin, she had been so close to achieving her goal, she swore as she looked down at the rest of her troops. She forced herself to occlude her fear and anger before casting a Sonorus on her throat.

Wizards and witches, as you all know, the Dark Lord is at our doorstep. At this very moment, he advances at the head of a gigantic army of inferi, dementors, werewolves, all kinds of dark creatures and repulsive hybrids to destroy everything we hold dear.

But I make this inviolable vow before you: We can win. Yes, we are fewer in number, but we possess a power greater than anything he could ever covet: we are not alone. Indeed, today you are not fighting just to defend your families sheltered within Hogwarts. Today, we are fighting to defend all of humanity. And the whole world will soon be aware of your sacrifice.

Our enemy is powerful, but it hides behind a veil of lies that will not long disguise its ignominy and cruelty. We are the last line of defense. The last thorn preventing it from transforming our glorious nation into a fortress from which it can launch its conquest of the world.

Umbridge paused to prepare herself to say the cursed name without trembling. She had to look strong.

Today Voldemort was afraid. An hour ago, thanks to the hard work of my administration, the truth was revealed within the international wizarding community, which for the first time in its history immediately agreed to form an army and come to help us. The latest actions of our enemy, as frightening as they may seem to you, are only the final convulsions of a power that knows it is doomed. A desperate attempt to regain control of a situation that is slipping away from him.

We are not numerous enough to defeat the army marching towards us. But we do not need to. We only need to hold out for a few days. Yes, in just a few days, the wizarding community will have put an end to the troubles that their attack caused on the highly impressionable minds of our Muggle friends, and a vengeful army will sweep in to liberate us.

Whatever happens, I know that you will resist, for you are the bearers of a flame that no power can ever extinguish. The flame of freedom. We will resist and WE WILL WIN!!!

She finished by shouting in an attempt to galvanize the crowds as Fudge was so skilled at doing during his meetings. But only an anguished silence answered her. Umbridge mentally thanked her long career that had taught her to suppress her emotions and theatrically turned her back to the crowd before discreetly signaling to the group of Unspeakables gathered next to her headquarters tent. Immediately, they began to chant and aImmense wall of flame a hundred meters high surrounded Hogwarts, finally provoking a thunder of cheers from the crowd.

Then she moved towards Percy Weasley (whom she had been forced to appoint as number two in her government and give him the power to keep the younger ones off the battlefield, to silence his criticisms about recruiting minors into their army) and the group of retired old aurors who would serve as her makeshift staff. They said nothing, but she saw their disapproval on their weathered faces. The battle plan they had spent days and nights developing initially planned for this wall of magical flame to be triggered only at the last moment to benefit from the element of surprise and to exhaust the incantors as little as possible. But with a single look, she made them understand that she would not tolerate them challenging her authority.

She did not have much experience in war, but she knew it was crucial for the men to remain motivated and confident in their chances of victory. Unless it was she who needed reassurance, whispered an annoying little voice with the tones of her father. She had no idea when the reinforcements would arrive, or even if they would receive any reinforcements. Communication with the confederation had been interrupted on a scene of chaos caused by the announcement of Potter's attack. But she was the only one who knew it, and she was determined to keep it that way. No matter. She would fight to the end to defend what she had dedicated her whole life to. And they were not entirely defenseless. Their opponent, as formidable as he might be, was just a brainless brute who simply destroyed everything in his path, thought Umbridge. Thanks to the bold initiative (though slightly immoral and hypocritical for the great opponent of using minors in war) of Percy Weasley to use those 3 young children to spy on their enemy, they knew what to expect and had prepared their defense accordingly.

In order to calm herself, she spent the next minute reviewing the domain maps and checking the location of each trap and fortification. They had strategically scattered the area with silver barbed wire that would channel the werewolves into a plain discreetly filled with wolfsbane, where a unit specialized in exterminating these beasts (which she had trained herself) would have no trouble getting rid of them. The wall of flames should be enough to repel the inferi, the dementors, and most of the dark creatures accompanying the dark lord. And the lead tongues were numerous enough to take turns for several weeks before being completely exhausted. She just hoped that none of her soldiers were knowledgeable enough in dark magic to understand the price they had to pay to use this spell. She was ready to do anything to defend the ministry, but she knew that was not the case for all her fellow citizens. She dismissed her thoughts and refocused on examining their last line of defense: the powerful protections of Hogwarts. In the event of an unforeseen event, their men could take refuge behind them to organize a counterattack. The plan was perfect, yet despite all this, without outside reinforcements, they were doomed to lose the siege. But You-Know-Who apparently had higher ambitions than the mere conquest of the United Kingdom. With this in mind, Umbridge knew they could not afford to lose too many men and time. She hoped that if they held out long enough, he would finally agree to negotiate.

After all, if all he wanted was the Muggle-borns, then there was no need to come to blows. She had nothing against them, but their losswould be negligible. Not to mention that for Umbridge, the purists were right to say that they could not integrate and refused to accept their tradition.

Then she stopped motionless in mid-movement. Something indescribable had just changed in the atmosphere and an inexplicable unease overwhelmed her. Then a clamor of terror was heard and the tent was blown away by a sudden gust of wind accompanied by thunderclaps. She then looked up at the sky and a dull terror seized her. In the sky, a gigantic storm cloud had taken the shape of Potter's face. In front of the crowd holding their breath, he began to blow and the fire barrier disappeared, revealing a hundred wizards wearing a modified version of Auror robes at the edge of the domain. Umbridge immediately saw that most of them were Death Eaters. She didn't have time to wonder how they had managed to get here several hours early without any of her lookouts alerting them when the clouds dispersed to reveal Potter floating in the sky without any support, a wicked smile ravaging his face. His voice, amplified, then resonated throughout the valley.

I have shown as much patience as I could with you, mad as I was to believe that I could persuade you to side with good. But this cowardly attack on our Muggle friends. This crime against the law of secrecy, which is the foundation of the wizarding community, I cannot forgive. I will not let the prejudices of one person ruin the sacrifices of so many others during the last war. Abandon Umbridge and her racist policies and I will spare you. Join me and together, we will build a stronger wizarding nation. Fight me and I will exterminate you!

He punctuated his sentence by releasing a wave of raw magic that took the breath away from everyone present, then he raised his wand which shone brighter than the sun and aimed at Hogwarts. A dreadful sound was then heard. It was like the death cry of a gigantic animal. It was both terrible and sad. Then a huge cracking noise was heard and cracks appeared in one of the castle's walls. And with a final gasp of agony, everything stopped. No one needed to check to know what had happened. The millennia-old protections of Hogwarts had just been destroyed.

Umbridge was the first to recover and she ordered the still-dazed Aurors from the destruction of their barrier:

Reform the defenses quickly!

Impossible, it would require re-sacrificing ... the leader of the leaden swaddling clothes replied to him.

Cast other protection spells. Anything. You cannot let... Umbridge tried to order. But she was cut off by one of the chanters:

Why are we still listening to this charlatan? We have no reason to fight against our savior.

We have no chance, we must surrender.

They are only a hundred and we are thousands. Tried to calm, in vain, Percy Weasley.

And that’s where the hell began. Under the satisfied gaze of the dark lord who continued to fly over them, spells had started to fly. Down in the valley, a terrible battle had broken out. All the more terrible because the Death Eaters had stayed back at the edge of the domain. His men were fighting among themselves in nameless chaos. Umbridge watched in horror as some men gathered to assassinate the members of her militia on whom she had relied to maintain order and discipline among the conscripts. She had not realized how unpopular her militiamen had become among the population ofThe enclave. Despite their caution, the dark lord had managed to infiltrate spies among his men to spread his venom there.

Then, finally bored with this spectacle, Potter ordered his troops to advance. Very quickly, everyone forgot who the enemy was and who they were fighting against. They all had only one goal in mind: to flee to survive. It was no longer a war, but a massacre, and high in the sky without intervening, Potter relished the spectacle.

Madam Minister, we must flee while there is still time. Fred Weasley shouted at her as he grabbed her shoulder to pull her away from the contemplation of this slaughter.

Flee! Where to?

We cannot give up. Against Percy

No. You are right. You have been an excellent assistant. The best I have ever had. She said with a sad look.

Madam Minister.

I will delay him. Save what can be saved. Priority to the archives of office C3.

No, Madam Minister. Percy groaned.

Percy is coming, we need to warn the refugees inside the castle. Said Fred, forcibly pulling him towards the castle. He took the opportunity to throw his too-large uniform of the minister's personal guard to the ground.

As he shed a few tears, Fred thought it was quite ironic. He who had been so angry with Percy for maneuvering to have him assigned to that elite guard that would be kept far from the battlefield. He who had insisted so much on being assigned where he could satisfy his thirst for revenge that had filled his heart since the death of his twin found himself being the first to leave the battle, letting his colleagues face Potter who was descending from the sky in their direction. Seeing the Dark Lord advancing, Percy abandoned his scruples and began to run with him. He repeated to himself that he was not a coward. Someone had to warn the occupants of the castle, and he was the only wizard in Umbridge's entourage who had not received Auror training.

In their mad dash, both pretended not to hear the screams that soon echoed behind them. No one asked a question that was nevertheless essential: where was the rest of Voldemort's army?

oOoOoOoOo

Meanwhile, in the Finch-Fletchey Parisian apartment (where Constance had left the four teenagers), Ginny, exasperated, turned off the TV that the other three teenagers had been watching continuously since Justin had managed, with great difficulty, to explain its operation to the two pure-bloods.

We have to leave. Said Ginny.

The last time someone said that, we all almost died three times. Blaise swore while trying to turn the television back on.

Such behavior is unworthy of a pureblood of such noble lineage, commented Nott with a look of disdain.

Well, that's the pot calling the kettle black. You were even more annoying than her at the cottage. I beg your pardon for my vulgarity, my lady. Blaise immediately corrected himself, remembering just in time that outside of Hogwarts, he indeed had a status to uphold. He had to remember that if he didn't want to worsen his situation with his mother.

We can't stay here doing nothing while You-Know-Who sets the world on fire and bloodshed, argued Ginny.

I won't do anything until I see my mother. Roared Blaise, who was fed up with adventures and felt he finally deserved a vacation.

Finally, given the content of the howlers he had received from his mother the moment he set foot in Switzerland, he should rather expect to spend 6 months in a jail cell and the following years studying in a monk's room until he came of age. Nevertheless, he was eager to see her again. It was thus with concern that he saw Justin shoot Theodore a look that boded ill. Finally, Justin lowered his eyes:

I agree with you, but what do you want us to do? We're just kids. And then we promised to wait until your brother comes to pick you up.

I'm fed up with my brothers telling me what to do. I'm big enough to decide on my own, 'my dear.' She ended sarcastically.

Justin blushed to the ears upon hearing the nickname his mother had given him in front of his friends, hugging him so tightly that he almost suffocated, when Constance had dropped them off on their doorstep. When his father joined him, they had to call for paramedics. However, his parents were much more circumspect about the new friend he brought home. They already knew Blaise and didn't mind hosting him in their spacious Parisian home. And little Ginny had quickly won their hearts. However, it was a different story with Theodore. His parents were grateful for his veiled warnings by letter, which had allowed their family to leave the country just in time. However, they couldn't help but shiver when they realized his presence. Despite the trust they had in their son, they couldn't forget the rest of the content of his letters. And his expressionless face and way of moving silently didn't help.

Nevertheless, they had done their utmost to hide it. Especially after their son enthusiastically recounted a tale of their adventure, which they suspected was slightly biased. Where Justin had believed he was recounting the many times Theodore had saved their lives and proved his loyalty, his parents saw it as proof that the teenager was particularly dangerous. They were determined to get rid of him as soon as possible. Unfortunately, all their inquiries about Theodore's family provoked an awkward silence followed by particularly embarrassing insinuations from Justin, which sent Theodore into a rage. These fits of anger brought the other teenagers to the brink of laughter, but terrified Justin's parents, who did not understand how they couldn't see the threat he posed.

Ooh! Poor little princess of light. It must be horrible to have a large and caring family that does everything to protect you. At least you have somewhere to go. Theodore mocked.

Théo, you are at home here. Justin intervened.

Your parents hate me.

He doesn't hate you. They just have a little trouble getting used to your presence.

Because he hates me. Insisted Theodore.

If you make an effort, I'm sure... Justin tried to be positive.

I am already making efforts. I'm trying to be as discreet as possible so as not to... Theodore cut him off angrily.

Wait, is that why you sneak up behind them every morning like a shadow ninja assassin? Blaise intervened.

I don't burst in, I say hello to them.

I thought you were playing a joke on them. Exclaimed Blaise.

Théo, I adore you as you are. But if you want to get along with my parents, you'll have to learn to behave less... more... Well, better.

I don't care about the opinion of vulgar bloods of bo... I don't care what people think of me. And I perfectly master all the rules of social etiquette. It's not my fault if Muggles are incapable of appreciating the subtleties of wizard etiquette. Which I respect in all circumstances. Unlike some. He finished, glancing at Blaise who had started picking his nose (and he had done much worse during the weeks they had spent stuck together).

How do you manage to stay there waiting without doing anything. Asked Ginny, exasperated by the change of subject.

A matter of habit, I suppose. And then, all the people we care about left England a long time ago. Blaise replied casually.

Speak for yourself. I have plenty of friends I haven't heard from anymore. Retorted Justin.

Yes, well, you are a Hufflepuff. Come on, don't make that face. I'm sure they've managed to find themselves a nice quiet spot to wait out the end of the war. We're the only ones crazy enough to openly challenge the Dark Lord and end up on his list, while we're barely old enough to drink butterbeer.

Shh!!! I never told my parents that on the wizarding side, I was allowed to buy alcohol. If they find out, I can say goodbye to my pocket money. Justin panicked.

An evil smile appeared on Blaise's face. He began to take a breath to shout something that would greatly displease Justin, but was interrupted by a gesture from Theodore who got up to hug the TV with an annoyed look (there was an extra wrinkle compared to his everyday face).

He's right, be quiet. Something is happening, said Theodore.

In the silence that followed, the others looked at each other in dismay.

Théo, everything is fine, you can put away your wand. You're going to worry my parents again. Justin tried to reassure him.

You don't feel it? Black magic is at work.

Once again, the vacuum robot is not a demon that will suck up your soul. Are you sure you weren't a cat in another life?

My reaction to this auditory torture device was perfectly justified. And this has nothing to do with it. Do you really not feel anything unusual? replied Theodore.

Without really believing it too much, they began to concentrate. And indeed, Justin had the impression that something was wrong. But he couldn't figure out what. Until Ginny asked:

How come we don't hear anything anymore?

Where have the sounds of vultures gone? Blaise asked.

Car. Justin corrected, but they were right, no more traffic noise reached them. Justin headed to the window overlooking the Avenue des Champs-Élysées to find out what was happening, but Theodore pinned him to the ground before he got there.

Everyone take cover until I figure out what's going on.

Don't you think you're overdoing it a bit? The war is over, Théo. Relax. Justin tried once again to calm him down.

Since they had arrived, not a day had passed without a similar panic attack from Théo. And that was during the day. There, Justin could still make fun of them to downplay them. He had a lottrouble doing the same at night. At first, he had greatly regretted insisting so much with his parents to share the same room. Then, when he confided in Blaise at breakfast, Blaise had told him that as long as he could remember, Théo had had restless nights. Except that in the Slytherin dormitory, he could hide it behind the heavy canopy curtains and a few silencing spells. However, no one was fooled in Slytherin, but apart from Blaise, no one had ever dared to confront him about his nocturnal anxieties. From that moment on, Justin made it his mission to conquer the Slytherin's anxieties. Three days later, Theodore finally cracked and answered Justin's incessant questions about what scared him so much at night (the perseverance of Hufflepuffs is not renowned for nothing). Subsequently, Theodore slept a little better, and Justin vowed to find a way to resurrect Théo's father to kill him a second time.

I didn't know peace had been signed. Theodore said ironically.

You know very well what I mean. Justin replied moodily.

It was a mistake to stay here. Even if we are no longer a priority for He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, there is still a bounty on our heads. We should have kept a low profile and gone as far away as possible.

We can't always run away, Théo. Blaise declared.

Not always, but until our death. The weak have no other choice. Declared Theodore in response.

During the moment Justin spent mentally cursing Theo's father once more, Ginny addressed them:

Or we can fight. There's no point in running away. He will eventually catch up with you. Our only chance is to face him.

No, but have you looked at us? What do you think we can do against him? Blaise exclaimed indignantly.

So far, that hasn't stopped you much. She countered.

We were lucky and we didn't have a choice. Blaise replied as if he were speaking to an idiot.

Of course you had a choice. You and Blaise could have left two months ago. Théodore replied calmly.

We couldn't abandon you. Justin repeated for what seemed to him like the umpteenth time.

Now, I know. I couldn't abandon you either. Declared Théo, trying to look as detached as possible.

This confession stunned them and Ginny took the opportunity to add:

And we can't abandon Harry. Nor all the others.

Harry is dead. And he wouldn't have wanted anyone to die needlessly. As for the others, it's none of my business. I'm already having enough trouble keeping these two alive. Theo explained, glancing at Justin and Blaise.

Blaise and Justin prepared for a futile attempt to save the precious wooden furniture from the terrible battle that was about to unfold between the two temperamental wizards when a scream from the street interrupted them. They all drew their wands and froze. Gradually, the screams multiplied and then became the sounds of crowds.

Let no one approach this window. Ordered Theodore.

Ginny was tempted to go see what was happening just to annoy the Slytherin, when Justin's mother burst through the door. Come quickly, a helicopter is waiting for us on the roof!

A heli-what? Asked the three purebloods simultaneously.

What's happening, Mom? Justin asked, ignoring his companions' question.

Didn't you watch the news? Her mother asked in return while hastily stuffing jewelry and bills into her handbag.

There is Malcolm which is being broadcast at the same time. You know, it's that new series... Justin explained sheepishly.

I know what this nonsense is. Take only the essentials, we barely have 5 minutes before he leaves.

What's happening?

That Umbridge you helped. She thanked you by sending an army of zombies to invade France. Good God, I can't even believe I'm saying something so absurd. Replied his mother on the verge of a nervous breakdown.

What is a zombie? asked Blaise and Ginny, who were tired of not understanding what was going on.

The result of an African curse. Theodore replied, pointing his wand at Justin's mother in a threatening manner, before asking her:

How can a Muggle have such detailed knowledge of foreign magic? Who are you, really?

For Muggles, a zombie is a corpse that has come back to life. And put that wand down! Do you remember what we said about your behavior? Replied Justin in place of his terrified mother.

Sorry, Madam. Theodore apologized in a tone that sounded pitiful to his friends, but which his mother perceived as without emotion or true regret. Then he turned his wand towards the door and transformed it into a wall of flame.

While his mother let out small horrified cries, Justin banged his head against the wall.

Fire is the only way to repel the inferi. If they get here, this illusion will push them back. For pity's sake, tell me that one of you knows the Flame spell? Théodore explained then.

Why do you want us to master a fourth-year spell? replied Blaise anxiously.

Because it could save your life. As soon as we are in a quiet place, I will resume training you in defense, in the meantime stay close to me.

With a few gestures of his wand, Nott conjured a huge suitcase into which flew what Theo considered to be the essentials (some time later, he would painfully learn that women have other essentials). Then he shrunk it and cast a spell to lighten it as much as possible, before giving it to Justin's mother. In his mind, it was logical that the only one unable to use a wand should carry their luggage, but Justin did not appreciate him treating his mother like a servant. Under his guidance, they anxiously passed through the illusion that had replaced their door. But it was nothing compared to the difficulty of climbing the stairs that separated them from the roof. They soon found themselves engulfed by the panicked crowd of the building's residents. The information that the cable news channels were broadcasting in a loop and the illusion of fire created by Theodore had driven them out of their minds.

At the cost of a lot of jostling and patience, they managed to reach the private rooftop terrace of the Finch-Fletcheys without revealing their wizard nature. They then had a breathtaking view of the capital. To the north, the Eiffel Tower lay on the ground, toppled due to the appearance—in place of its foundations—of a gigantic crater resulting from an underground nuclear explosion from which emergedBy the dozen, sick goblins, yet determined to fight against the French soldiers who were trying to take control of the area. Further west, he saw a huge fire developing where Blaise and Théodore knew the wizarding district of Paris was located. And everywhere, people were screaming and crying as they ran, abandoning the cars that had become useless in the crowded streets in an attempt to flee the capital.

What is the French army doing? Asked Justin.

What do the French Aurors do? Blaise asked.

They are there. Théodore replied in place of Justin's mother, pointing to the Île de la Cité where a tank attempted to break through a barricade from which a myriad of spells was escaping. One of them was so powerful that the tank flew and crashed against the facade of a Haussmann-style building, revealing the contingent of soldiers hiding behind it. As good professionals, they quickly recovered and began to machine-gun their opponent while retreating.

But Justin's mother did not listen to them. Too busy, she was watching their desperately empty heliport.

oOoOoOo

Those who are able to stand should group in fours to levitate stretchers and place the other patients on them. Ordered Pomfrey.

We don't have time, we must flee now. Objected one of the surviving nurses from St. Mungo's, addressing Housser (much to Pomfrey's annoyance).

It is true that as a doctor and the highest-ranking representative of St. Mungo's still present, it was theoretically his task to administer the hospital that the Hogwarts infirmary had become and not that of a mere school nurse like her. However, she had hoped that even the most conservative of the former St. Mungo's healers would have accepted that in her domain, she was the sole decision-maker.

Oh, how cute. They are big enough to try to play dad against mom. So let me explain, my dear. If dad makes mom angry, tonight she will refuse to play Uno with him. As a result, he will have to go play with the neighbor, but that will make the neighbor angry. So, not to be difficult, I suggested we play as a threesome, but he punched me, calling me crazy, so I filed a complaint for assault, but the judge sided with him and mom asked for a divorce. All this to say that I had to go to a brothel and that's how I met your new mom... Why am I talking about this already? Oh yes: I will not leave without abandoning my patients and if you try to escape, I will shoot you myself! Greg shouted before leaving the infirmary.

The still dazed nurse took 5 minutes before saying:

Is it just me or did he just leave us to sort it out ourselves?

If you want us to leave faster, go ask these questions in the storeroom and stuff into this bag all the potions we might need. Ordered Pomfresh, throwing a St. Mungo's travel bag into his arms.

Meanwhile, Greg climbed the steps of the castle as quickly as the officials, who wandered from one end of the corridors of the castle to the other with their arms full of files like headless chickens, allowed him, until he reached the former office of Dumbledore, which Umbridge had redecorated to make it the office of the Minister of Magic. The portraits of the former headmasters had been replaced by maps of the country, organizational charts, hideous paintings of cats with pink bows, and an imposing portrait of Umbridge in aAuror uniform that sat in a central position behind the desk, which looked more like a throne than a work tool. However, at this moment, what caught Greg's attention was the chaos Percy was creating in the room under the worried gaze of his little brother.

Fred, stop having fun and immediately return to help us at the infirmary. Ordered Greg.

I no longer work at the infirmary, but in the personal guard of the minister.

What you are not ready to invent to avoid dealing with Madame Boulard's boils.

Do you think it's the right time? Fred protested.

Do you really think you're more useful here? Get out, that's an order or I'll put you on guard duty for the next 4 weeks.

Finally understanding where he was going with it, Fred left the room. Once he was sure Fred was out of earshot, Greg asked:

Percy, what are you doing? We need you downstairs.

While continuing to gather papers, Percy replied to him:

From me, for what? Do you want advice on how to mess up everything you undertake?

No, I need our minister to organize the evacuation. Damn, we don't even know where we're going.

I am not a minister and my role is just to save the register of international treaties on ….

Calmly, Greg set fire to the documents Percy was holding. He watched stoically as all traces of his work since joining the ministry went up in smoke. Then he said with a detached air:

I have no idea where we could go. You-Know-Who controls the entire country. Hogwarts was the last safe place. It's funny, I always dreamed of being a minister and only now do I realize that I'm not cut out for the job. Umbridge, Dumbledore, and even Fudge always had an idea. They were rarely good ideas, but at least they had some. Me, I'm just a paper-pusher good at executing orders. I'm incapable of giving them.

But enough with the whining, okay?! Do you think I always know how to cure my patients? Well actually, yes, I do always know how to cure my patients. But if I didn't know, I wouldn't go hide in my office to cry. I would find an intern and tell them they have 3 hours to figure it out, or they're fired.

It looks exactly like the kind of bad ideas Fudge would have had.

You see that it's not so complicated to be a good leader. So quickly find a scapegoat to pass the hot potato to and go down to pretend that everything is under control.

I believe he is the one. Percy replied, staring at Greg.

No! Greg exclaimed as he understood.

This is an order from the Minister of Magic. Oh, and you have a maximum of 15 minutes. After that, you'll have to explain to the survivor why we haven't left the castle yet.

Without another word, Percy left the office, leaving Greg completely stunned behind him.

oOoOoOo

After having to mourn the helicopter and with great difficulty explain to the three purebloods accompanying them why they couldn't use the cleaning lady's brooms to escape, Justin's mother was going back up.The avenue with nervousness, holding tightly the hand of her son and in the other that of young Ginny to avoid losing them in the wild avenue of the Champs Élysées. She tried her best to ignore the groups attempting to break down the armored doors of the luxury stores lining the street and to keep her eyes fixed on her goal: the Defense Tower where her husband worked, shining in the distance.

And she hoped that the teenagers would be content, like her, to lower their eyes and quicken their pace. Until now, she had been very proud that her rabbit had behaved like a hero. Today, she realized especially how much a hero could be a danger to himself and those around him. But it was not from Justin that the trouble came:

This man has problems, he needs help. Ginny shouted before abruptly letting go of her hand and running towards a group of hooded individuals who had surrounded a young man and were threatening him with a knife. She followed the young girl and caught her just in time to prevent her from throwing herself at them with a zipper brandished. But they were now close enough to hear the content of the conversation:

Since I tell you that I am not Harry Potter.

You look a lot like the photo in that wizard newspaper.

No, but yes. It's me in the photo, but I'm not Harry Potter. I'm terrible at magic. I'm almost a Squib.

A what? If you are not Harry Potter then why did his witches tell us that you were Harry Potter?

I was pretending so that she... Well, I was pretending, you know. That's how I've been making a living for years. My father disowned me and the theater wasn't going well, so when the real Harry Potter didn't show up at Hogwarts, my agent and I started this scam. And then the real Harry Potter allowed us to continue if we gave him 50% of all the profits. 50%, can you believe it? Even though we're the ones doing all the work.

Big B, who cares about his surname? He's a freak, we have to take him out before he takes us out. Said one of the men, pulling out a gun.

Promise if I get out of this, I will never pretend to be Harry Potter again. Shouted the young wizard suddenly panicking.

Idiot Potter, he's the only wizard who opposes Umbridge. If he dies, so do we.

If he's our only hope, then we're screwed. Might as well kill him right away and go get one last drink.

The teenagers had heard enough and, under the approving gaze of Justin's mother, used the little that Nott had been able to teach them during the few days they had spent together. The bullies fled quickly without asking for more, and the other witnesses continued on their way. Only the quickening of their walking pace and the distance they kept to avoid crossing paths with them showed that they had indeed observed the scene.

Ginny stepped forward to the young wizard in his twenties they had just saved. Justin's mother then noticed that he was extremely handsome. This did not seem to escape the young teenager who stammered:

Are you...?

Yesssss. He replied in a charming tone with a smile that would have made Lockhart blush with jealousy. Then he noticed the boys' gaze and corrected himself:

Finally, no. In fact, my name is Félix Lalo and I...

You are so much more handsome than the original. Ginny interrupted him, visibly restraining herself from jumping in excitement.

The impostor's jaw dropped so low that he swore he heard his jawbone crack. Ginny didn't know it, but she had just gained her biggest fan. After all this time being treated as a pale imitation, he had forgotten that he could shine on his own.

He took so long to recover that when he regained consciousness, his rescuers had disappeared. He searched the street and saw from afar his savior being forcibly dragged away.

He tried to join them, but was quickly separated from them by the crowd. But the most upset by this separation was Ginny, who had to endure the extremely hypocritical reprimands from Justin's mother about their recklessness for the rest of their journey.

oOoOoOo

A hundred pops of Apparition disturbed the calm of the English countryside and a crowd of wizards in varying states appeared, and a hubbub of voices was heard.

No Philippe!

He sacrificed himself so we could escape.

Where are we?

When do we eat?

All fell silent with their reproaches when Percy cut through the crowd with an angry air, letting his magic crackle around him. However, even though none dared to openly voice criticisms, all looked severely at the man so young and yet already so ruthless who had decided to abandon half of them when You-Know-Who had crossed the castle gates before they had finished preparing the evacuation.

Next to him stood Fred, whom Percy had temporarily reinstated in his bodyguard duties to ensure he wouldn't throw himself into a losing battle at the slightest opportunity. Needless to say, Fred hadn't missed a chance to let him know what he thought of this decision. As he climbed the path under hateful gazes, he wondered what he had done to deserve this. But he didn't care. Since the birth of the twins, he was used to being considered the tyrant blamed for being responsible and making difficult decisions. At first, it had hurt him, but he had managed to turn this pain into a burning ambition to show everyone what he was worth, which had led him to the top. Reaching the end of the path, he was struck by the immense fortress blocking their horizon:

He then heard the voice of Petunia Dursley exclaim:

The difference between dwelling and excess: an 's', that of survival.

In response to Percy's questioning look, who had just noticed her presence, she explained:

I read that in a magazine.

He was surprised to see the Dursleys by his side, but did not comment. In the confusion that had been their departure, he had barely noticed that Fred had momentarily left him to Apparate Potter's parents. He then thought that Fred had grown up well and that he might give him a second chance. Percy approached the couple standing in front of the closed portcullis that protected the entrance to the fort. He approached the man holding a child who must have been 10 years old in his arms and asked him irritably:

Doctor Housser, I thought I asked you to find us a refuge?

There is no better refuge than Fort Nott.

Excuse me, have you lost your mind? Unless you have finally decided to betray us in favor of the Death Eaters.

I have frequented the Notts enough to know that the protections would not allow anyone to stay there without the express permission of the Nott heir and they are far too powerful to be overcome. No chance that Death Eaters are there.

Unless You-Know-Who decides to break its protections to seize it. Do I need to remind you of what he did to those at Hogwarts?

Greg threw a stone into a space through the portcullis and everyone could see it turn to dust without a sound as it passed the gate.

I think he has better things to do than to seize a lost fortress in the middle of nowhere. The Scots are terrifying, but not to the point that he would want to put back into service what remains of the fortresses of Hadrian's Wall.

And how do you plan to get us in? In case you forgot, we sent the Nott heir to Switzerland and we can't wait in the open for him to come and let us in.

Let's see, I am Dr. Housser. I have made it my specialty to go where my patients do not want to see me.

Still holding the child that Percy now recognized as belonging to Greg's new partner (Percy sincerely pitied the woman who had been foolish enough to agree to marry him), Greg approached the fortification and came close to being exterminated by the protections. Then he began a litany and a series of wand movements that were quite impressive, but which Percy perceived for what they really were thanks to his NEWTs in runes and arithmancy: ridiculous showmanship. He was about to sharply scold Greg for leading them into a dead end when, with an impressive creak, the fortress doors opened and the survivors hurried to take refuge inside.

Percy then noticed that the child had a very unsightly nose.

Press Brief 3

Hello, you are on CNN, it is September 20, 1994, and we begin this news broadcast with an update on the global situation. Following the underground atomic explosions that contaminated the groundwater supplying them with drinking water, the cities of Paris and Tokyo are experiencing a massive exodus of their population and very violent urban fighting. Now, a report from our special correspondents on site.

As you can see, the fighting is raging in the capital between humans and the witch community discovered at the very heart of the Île de la Cité, despite calls for calm from President François Mitterrand…

Excuse me for interrupting, but we have just learned that the army sent by France to meet the wave of undead that escaped from the Channel Tunnel had to retreat in order to reestablish a line of defense, but extravagant rumors of a complete collapse of the army after the soldiers lost all motivation to live and the flight of the French head of state have caused panic throughout the country, threatening to spread to other states.

In response, the surrounding countries all declared martial law and a curfew starting at 8 PM. Additionally, an extraordinary NATO meeting was organized. Shortly after these decisions, documents revealing the links between Umbrage and European governments leaked to the press, causing violent urban riots in major European cities and what it takes.Well call it the beginning of a witch hunt. The U.S. Department of State advises American citizens to stay at home and, in case of trouble, to go immediately to their embassy.

oOoOoOo

Hello, you are on CNN, it is September 25, 1994, and once again, we begin this broadcast with an update on the situation in Europe. Following the destruction of NATO headquarters in Haren, Belgium, and the death of all American soldiers sent there, protests have arisen even among Democratic senators. Despite President Bill Clinton's address to Congress, where he reaffirmed his commitment to protecting our European allies and justified hiding his ties with the wizarding world, an impeachment procedure has been initiated against him.

In order not to destabilize the country if the procedure were to succeed, Republican and Democratic dissenters agreed on a single candidacy of businessman Donald Trump and his isolationist line. Commentators hailed a responsible choice in these troubled times as well as the symbol of compromise represented by the choice of a person from civil society known for their support of both parties. Following these announcements, the S&P500 jumped 2 points, but remains at its lowest level in 36 years. Right away, our special correspondent in Washington DC. Mark, can you tell us what the chances are of the impeachment procedure succeeding?

To be honest here, we are in total uncertainty. One certainty, the ball seems to be in the president's court. Unless there is a surprising military victory, it seems that the presidency has two choices. The first would be to yield to the demands of the rebellious senators to repatriate what remains of our troops and let the European Republic restore order in Europe.

However, such a turnaround would be difficult to understand after claiming that young Potter was responsible for the destruction of the American fleet stationed in the North Sea. As a reminder, despite his young age, he is a powerful wizard who represents the European wizarding community within the European republic created by what remains of the English government, in order to restore order after the devastation caused by the passage of the army of the dead created by Umbridge and her supporters to avenge the death of wizarding citizens in the attacks of August 11. Potter and the republic have denounced a manipulation aimed at pressuring the young republic to align with American interests and reiterated his commitment to the Muggle world in which he was raised and that he will never let religious fanatics darken his heart.

And the second solution, Mark?

The second poses as much of a problem as the first. It would involve sending a second expeditionary force to Europe despite the Senate's unfavorable opinion by invoking the emergency vote of September 20, which authorized the engagement of troops already present in Europe and the respect of alliance treaties signed with the former European governments, which were duly ratified by the Senate. Heated debates are already taking place among specialists to determine the legality of such an action, but ultimately what would determine the acceptance of such an action would be the success or failure of military operations. However, since the destruction of the French army, the Pentagon believes in the necessity of integrating wizards. Let us recall that for the Pentagon, the explanation for the rapid fall of European nations is their inability to call upon theirWitch community, then victim of pogroms, to protect themselves from creatures called Dementors who would accompany the undead. He could only make this choice if negotiations to normalize relations between the American magical federation and our government succeeded. However, they have been extremely slowed down by the attack of the evangelical group "the army of god" against the Salem Institute of Wizards.

Moreover, the American magical federation continues to arouse deep mistrust among the American population, which has not been alleviated by the denialist statements of the president of the American witch federation who denies Umbridge's crimes.

oOoOoOo

Hello, you are on CNN, it is September 28, 1994, and tensions have just escalated between the government of the young Russian Federation and the American administration after President Bill Clinton ordered the repatriation of his embassy from Moscow in protest against Russian atomic strikes on Polish territory in order to stop the army of darkness before it reached the Russian borders. President Boris Yeltsin tried to justify himself by claiming that the disbandment of NATO and the inaction of the American government left him no other choice if he wanted to protect his population.

Nevertheless, voices are rising from all sides to force President Bill Clinton to stop all military cooperation between the United States and the Russian Federation. To calm tensions, the president has ordered the repatriation of all American troops from the region until the radioactive cloud has dissipated, specifying that it was a precautionary measure. However, the chief general of the allied armies indicated that from now on, they would have to manage without American assistance. Following this announcement, the Moscow stock market plunged by 50%, the ruble's value by 80%, and despite martial law and the order to stay confined in homes until the radioactive cloud finishes crossing the country, major Russian cities are experiencing looting by residents fearing shortages.

Excuse me for interrupting, but I have just been informed that, after investigation, the Pentagon spokesperson confirmed that the atomic strikes had a limited impact on the advance of enemy troops. Indeed, after only one hour, an unidentified sorcerer arrived on the scene by air, and the army of darkness immediately reformed. Moreover, as expected, nuclear fire seems ineffective against the soul-stealing ghosts that wizards call Dementors. Despite everything, the American wizarding community persists in its denial and claims that it is impossible for them to provide us with a similar army of zombies. These denials have hardly convinced the general public, and evangelical movements continue to see in these capabilities proof that wizards are a spawn of the devil, and several massive demonstrations have taken place across the country to demand their eradication.

oOoOoOo

Author's note: For those who don't know, Donald Trump was a Democrat for several years before becoming a Republican and being considered as George Bush's vice president. Then he became a Democrat again in the 2000s in opposition to the Iraq war.

In this fanfic, I say that he is moderate both as a joke and because at the time, it seems he was. But I do not deny that today, he is a far-right scumbag (yes, I know, that's a pleonasm).

The duel of the two impostors

When are we arriving? Complained Ginny.

To know that, we would first need to know where we're going. Criticized Justin.

This time, I'm sure we're on the right track. Blaise replied, nervously fiddling with the Muggle map they had stolen from an abandoned gas station.

That's what you said 3 days ago. You still haven't held the map upside down, have you?

But no. This time, I understood that Muggle maps do not automatically orient themselves in the right direction. We have to go straight until the village N7 and there, we turn left and we'll be there.

Justin and his mother stopped immediately.

It's not true, we are still lost.

But no, we are here. And my mother's secret refuge is here. Blaise defended himself by pointing to a blue spot on the map.

That's the Canal du Midi, idiot. Ginny scolded before collapsing to the ground.

She was hungry and exhausted. She had never walked as much as during the past few days they had spent wandering the deserted French country roads. And the shops that were still standing were all desperately empty of any food. In any case, they had no money left and they refused to use their powers to steal from people (in the case of the Slytherins, not out of altruism, but out of a desire to remain discreet). At first, they had blended into a large convoy of fugitives escorted by deserters from the gendarmerie (extorting might be more accurate), but they had separated near Lyon when a group of Death Eaters and looters attacked their group from the air. Since then, the whole country seemed to be hiding.

In the rare cities still taking the risk of keeping a gym open to host refugees from the big cities (where he had risked taking a break on rainy days), it was whispered that those who were captured never returned. No one dared to express it, but despite the reassuring speeches broadcast repeatedly on TV and radio, everyone feared joining the ever-growing army of the dead, which was advancing further east. No one believed the lies of this European republic that had emerged from the ruins left by the army of the dead, where the battles between wizards and Muggles followed the great revelation (which greatly favored the army of the dead). People relied only on themselves, formed mutual aid networks, organized to defend themselves, and hid from the representatives of the republic created entirely by Voldemort. And sometimes took the opportunity to settle some scores.

We'd better try to reach the bunker that your father bought in Switzerland, Justin's mother said to her son.

Me, I don't care where we go, as long as we move. Whether it's the Finch-Fletchley bunker or the Zabini refuge, none will protect us from the dark lord. Pressed Theodore.

If Theo is right and we are still being sought, we will be safer at my mother's. The manor is equipped with every conceivable protection spell, explained Blaise.

A manor where your mother had parties with half the Death Eaters in England, retorted Ginny.

Not only for those who were rich and old. Teases Justin.

That's exactly what I'm saying. Ginny replied.

In any case, the place is under fidelitas and she is the guardian. Blaise rebuked them with an annoyed look.

Mr. Nott keeps saying that no protection is reliable. If that's the case, we'll be safer in a place that no one knows. Argued Justin's mother.

Listen, I understand that you want to see your husband again, but it would be too easy for them to find us in a Muggle shelter, even a secret one. What I say is that we shouldn't look for a hiding place, but keep moving constantly and rely on basic protection against tracking that we can use all the time. Nott commented, remembering how difficult it had been to convince her to flee Paris when they hadn't found any trace of Justin's father at the La Défense esplanade.

Yeah, is that why you all live in overprotected fortresses? Criticized Justin.

Fort Nott is the safest place in England, but its walls have never prevented their enemies from reaching my ancestors. Our ancestral homes protect our honor and our people, but rarely spare our blood. Explained Nott.

Blaise replied with a tired look:

Why do all the old families claim to have the most protected place in England? Listen, if Nott really knows how to cast corporeal Patronuses, then when we're at my place, he can send a message to your father.

Provided that your mother allows me. Do you really think she will take the risk of being noticed for a Muggle? Nott remarked calmly.

Blaise was about to retort something, but hastily shut his mouth before conceding while turning to Justin:

The problem is not that your father is a Muggle, but that she is not of our blood. My mother always told me to love only if I had no choice and to help only those I love.

In her place, I wouldn't have been so blunt, especially with my lap... with Justin, corrected Justin's mother, rolling her eyes after her son shot her a dark look. But it's very true. Your mother must be a formidable businesswoman.

She did not understand why the three teenagers burst into laughter as Blaise got angry:

Yes, my mother is a businesswoman. Contrary to what the jealous claim, the bulk of our fortune comes from the investments made by my mother. And even so, I don't see how it is more honorable than having obtained them because her ancestor slaughtered half the goblins in the country.

My ancestors created this country, then sacrificed themselves to defend it. Against Nott.

Before the tone rose, Justin intervened:

It's okay, we're sorry. We didn't mean to upset you. We're just tired. We're taking a break while Blaise finds the direction to the Zabini shelter.

After that, they all sat down. Justin tried to convince himself that he chose to support Blaise's plan only because it was the safest. But deep down, he knew that what really scared him was not what they might find on the way, but what they might not find.Nothing indicated that his father was still alive, and Justin was convinced that he would never have left Paris without his mother and him.

What's the problem with Blaise's mother? Asked Justin's mother.

She's a bitch. Ginny replied before Justin had time to think about how to respond without risking upsetting his mother and her insisting again on going to Switzerland.

Once he had recovered enough from his surprise at seeing little Ginny use such vocabulary, he exclaimed in a reproachful voice:

Ginny!

What!? That's what Percy was saying. Isn't it true?

No, it's... Justin stopped to think about how to present the matter with subtleties.

A murderer. And an excellent one. Perhaps the best in England. My father kept praising her exploits and followed her career closely. At one point, he almost married her. That's how Blaise and I met.

Ah, thank you Théo! Justin couldn't help but say in a reproachful tone while Ginny spat out the water she was drinking and her mother looked scared. Sometimes, he hated his friends.

Once they had rested and Justin had managed to convince his mother that she was not surrounded by dangerous psychopaths (author's note: it is not good to lie to one's parents), they agreed to stop at the next village to ask for directions. It was risky, but they couldn't continue to wander around aimlessly. Unfortunately, after that, he would have no choice but to rely on Blaise's more than questionable sense of direction. He was the only one who knew where his mother's refuge was located, and the many spells on the place prevented him from revealing its location, even approximately, to anyone. Only those who had already been there could know where it was.

So it was with caution that they entered the outskirts of a small cluster of houses lost in the middle of fields surrounding a town center composed of a few shops with windows boarded up and a small medieval church. The main street was deserted, and one might have thought it a ghost town if not for the shutters that closed at their arrival.

Charming welcome. Commented Ginny.

Suddenly, about ten wizards dressed in black with white plastic carnival masks surrounded them. The effect should have been terrifying, but the contrast with the real Death Eaters forced the teenagers to suppress a smile. But this moment of levity abruptly ended when one of them sneaked up behind them and put a knife to Justin's throat, ordering them to lower their wands if they didn't want to see him die.

Reluctantly, they threw down all their wands and immediately ropes appeared to bind them. The one who seemed to be the leader then stepped towards them.

Well, well, what do we have here? Intruders who dare to enter the master's territory without being invited. And without even paying the entrance fee. That's not very polite.

If it's money you want... Blaise began.

Silence mudblood vermin, the Dark Lord will decide your fate.

We are not mudbloods. Blaise retorted.

That's it. And I'm Dumbledore? Come on, move along!

Under the threat of their wand, their group started moving. Justin and his mother could hardly hold back their tears. As for Blaise, he did not hide that he was terrified:

Where are you taking us? What are you going to do to us?

Silence, bastard. You will have the privilege of being judged by the great Harry Potter himself.

At these words, Theodore and Ginny, who until then had been entirely occupied with finding a way to free themselves, turned pale in turn.

You’re not going to bother the Dark Lord just for us? Blaise attempted.

For any response, he received a violent blow to the ribs from the one holding him at gunpoint.

I should kill you for spreading such lies about our savior and master. The lord will be informed that you are spreading the lies of our enemies from abroad.

After that, they fell silent, careful not to upset their guard. They continued walking for 30 minutes along a dirt path winding through a forest, under the constant threat of a dozen wands, before emerging at a vast and magnificent stone manor bordering the Canal du Midi. Justin's mother thought it must have been a former vacation spot built by wealthy bourgeois in the 19th century. However, once inside, the atmosphere changed radically. Black sheets covered the large stained-glass windows, and only torches illuminated the vast hall. They advanced to a hall where about twenty men in black clothes were gathered on either side of a throne where the master of the house proudly sat.

Lord Potter, we have captured intruders who entered your estate without paying the tax.

Well, bring them to me, so I can... YOU! he shouted, standing up hastily.

No, but I'm dreaming. Exclaimed Nott.

What is this circus? Ginny added feverishly.

The others were still too shocked to react. In front of them stood proudly the great and terrible: Félix Lalo.

Silence brat. A little respect in front of the master. With a spell, the man forced them to kneel.

Leave us, I wish to speak privately with the prisoners. Ordered Félix.

But master! Tried to protest the leader of the gang who had captured them.

You dare to challenge my orders. Do I need to remind you that before my arrival in this place, you were nothing but miserable raiders? You should thank me on your knees for forgiving you and bringing you back to the right path.

The right path, my ass. Commented Blaise who had regained all his courage.

He was about to be hit again, but Félix stopped him with a gesture.

I gave you an order, it seems to me. I will take care of the education of these miserable insects myself.

A woman to her right stepped out of the line and asked:

My revered lord, are you sure?

Would you doubt my power, woman?

I would never dare, my lord, but you are too important to risk losing.

Your solicitude touches me greatly, Rose, too much in fact. But thanks to your good and loyal services, since my arrival, I have not had a single opportunity to have fun. Rest assured that when I leave for the east, I will make sure you are rewarded, but in the meantime, I would like to be alone.

Very well, my lord. She bowed before leaving, leading the rest of the sorcerers who passed in front of the adolescents still kneeling and bound without giving them a glance. Once the heavy doors had closed.

Once they had all left, Blaise declared:

Well, you release us, O great and mighty lord.

So, you're going to laugh, but I don't know the counter-spell. Félix explained with embarrassment.

Is this a joke!?

Then all of a sudden the ties that held them loosened all at once. With a glance, he understood that Théo had just freed them with a knife.

Could you have done that earlier? Or did you get that?

It is a magic knife that breaks all binding spells which my father gave me for passing my initiation ceremony. I always keep it hidden in my boot. Nott replied.

While the others rubbed their hands sore from the ties, Ginny stepped forward to Félix:

How could you make them believe that you were the lord of darkness?

It's not me, I didn't do anything. They keep mistaking me for him. And then I was hungry.

You have to tell them the truth. Ginny intervened.

To be torn apart by an angry crowd. Opposed Felix.

You cannot pretend forever.

And why not?

As if to answer him at that very moment, a huge noise was heard. A few seconds later, a crowd armed with pitchforks forced their way into the throne room, and a hubbub of angry cries filled the room. Félix panicked and courageously took refuge behind Justin's mother.

A few seconds later, the group that had captured them arrived in turn (still dressed in their parody of Death Eater attire). Immediately, everyone in the room fell silent and the tension was palpable:

Excuse our incompetence, my lord, but we arrived too late to stop them.

A man emerged from the crowd and addressed him.

Say earlier that you were scared. You have always been a coward, Robert. Before you hid in your master's robes, you barely had the courage to rob the elderly.

No matter, old fool. You're not the one calling the shots here anymore. The master will teach you what it costs to rebel against the greatest sorcerer of all time.

You confuse greatness with power, and even then, you forget that there is a wizard he has always feared. A wizard whose powers have always surpassed his without stooping to villainy and dark magic.

He is dead.

These are nothing but the treacherous lies of your master we have found him. Hungry and wounded, but very much alive. Since then, we have everything.sacrificed to care for him and get him back on his feet. And now, he will once again free Europe from darkness.

The teenagers couldn't believe it. Could Dumbledore still be alive after all? The crowd parted and everyone held their breath. A man in long purple robes and a long unkempt beard approached with a trembling gait, as if embarrassed by the immense weight of the crowd's hopes resting on his shoulders:

Lockhart!! exclaimed the 4 teenagers.

Didn't you say he couldn't hold his wand straight when you had him as a teacher in your second year? Justin's mother asked in her son's ear.

Once the crowd had finished pushing him in front of the throne and he had no other choice but to face the master of the place, Lockhart exclaimed in a trembling voice:

You ..you have changed a lot since the last time I saw you. At the time, you were jealous of my power that easily outclassed you. Let's see if, as the rumor claims, you have improved since then.

Master, you cannot let such an affront pass. Commented one of the bandits disguised as a Death Eater.

Of course not, I'm going to teach you to respect your superiors, you counterfeit hero. Get ready! Felix challenged, taking out his wand and starting to spin in a perfect circle on the stage.

Everyone fell silent. Both the supporters of the dark mage and those of the white mage awaited the final outcome that would decide the fate of the world. Meanwhile, the teenagers hesitated between laughing and crying.

Maybe they should be stopped before they get hurt. Ginny worried.

I have been ready since I was born. Retorted Lockhart full of arrogance, flashing one of his devastating smiles at the women in the audience.

I suggest going to get some popcorn. It's not every day you witness the confrontation of two legends. Blaise proposed silently.

Such arrogance. You will soon understand that I have nothing in common with the weak creatures you boast so much about having defeated.

In your opinion, what happens when a negligible force meets an object without inertia? Rajouta Justin.

I would rather go find out where their food supply is and how to get out of here. Nott suggested as he began to sneak discreetly toward a hidden door behind the throne.

With a slight delay, everyone followed him. Before leaving the room, Ginny cast one last worried glance towards the scene but noticed that Lockhart and Félix continued circling each other, exchanging provocations in an increasingly theatrical manner and making grand threatening gestures with their wands. All nervousness had now disappeared from the two performers, who were now in their element. She closed the door, thinking that regardless of what the boys thought, Félix was charming.

Once sure they were no longer being heard, they began to run throughout the house. They soon stumbled into a large room serving as a storage where they were able to retrieve their wand as well as the rest of their belongings and a magic map that might finally allow Blaise to lead them to their destination. Then they went back to explore the rest of the house until they came across the woman still in a black dress accompanied by two pseudo Death Eaters. The four young wizards drew their wands before noticing that theirThe opponent had arms laden with a heavy bag of galleons and a backpack with several tents.

Let us go, please. We're not even wizards. Exclaimed the woman.

They were so amazed that the only thing they heard was Justin's mother's question:

Where are the kitchens? And the toilets?

On the left at the back on the right. And under the stairs right next to it.

With suspicion, they positioned themselves along the corridor to let them pass. An hour later, with their stomachs full, they made their way back up to the throne room. Despite searching thoroughly, he hadn't found any other exit than the one through the great hall by which they had arrived. The other exits were blocked by spells that even Theo didn't know how to break (he had muttered under his breath the whole way that his father hadn't trained him to be a thief).

They quietly pushed the door open. Immediately, spells shouted at the top of their lungs and the terrifying growls of a monstrous beast reached them. Before the boys could stop her, Ginny suddenly slammed the door open and made a dramatic entrance, a bat-bogey hex on her lips, ready to save what could be saved of Felix. She lowered her wand upon realizing that the growls were just the snores of the spectators who had all eventually fallen asleep, while Lockhart and Felix, now sweating, continued circling each other, uttering what, for lack of inspiration, had stopped being elaborate insults and turned into threatening shouts.

Oh men! Complained Ginny before starting to walk without a glance at her former idol.

The others followed her without asking for more. Before crossing the domain's gate, Justin hesitated then ran back. Once in the great hall, he shouted:

Hey! You two assholes. You should get out of here before they wake up.

Then he left without looking back. It was only two days later that their small group realized that the two actors had followed them.

oOoOoOo

Author's note: At this point, I think I should clarify that I have nothing against Félix Lalo. And of course, he has nothing to do with the fictional character to whom I gave his name in this fanfic. I just thought it was funny to give his name to my imposter character.

For those who don't know, Félix Lalo is an influencer who had a bit of success on TikTok by highlighting his resemblance to Daniel Radcliffe (the actor who plays Harry Potter in the films).

Mission redemption

A week later in London, in the great hall of the ministry, everyone was fleeing in a rush. Once the last elevator had left, the swarming crowd that had clustered against the golden doors hurriedly sought a hiding place. Once everyone had found shelter, the great hall echoed with a fearful silence and ragged breaths. Only the moans and psalms of the wizards condemned to torment broke the silence and reminded that the place was the center of a vast evil empire that now stretched from the Strait of Gibraltar to the Ural Mountains.

The reason for this escape was simple. Five minutes ago, they all felt a wave of raw magic tighten around their necks. All of them now knew what it meant: the master was back and he was not happy.

When he finally appeared, Voldemort crossed the hall quickly without even a glance or gesture for his servants. He barely distractedly cast a Cruciatus Curse on a young recruit who, unaccustomed to this new routine of terror and obsequiousness, had not sufficiently hidden. But unlike his usual behavior, he did not sit on his throne to watch the tortured and take out his anger on some of them. He continued his stride to the elevators, and when he realized they were all occupied by his minions, with a flick of the Elder Wand, he cut the cables of one of them and the cabin crashed with a dreadful sound of broken bones.

The dark wizard smiled and, with no regard for the agonized pleas of the survivors pouring out from the now blood-covered golden cabin, he stepped over the corpses and trampled the broken arms until he reached the center of the cabin. With a wave of his wand, it repaired itself and began to descend into the depths of the ministry with the unfortunate ones who hadn't had time to crawl outside on board.

But the dark wizard paid them no attention, and when a few seconds later the elevator reached the deepest basement of the ministry, he left them without a single glance. They all then breathed a sigh of relief. Usually, the master's rages left them with injuries far more serious than a few broken ribs.

It was only once he had passed the door lined with protective spells (which he himself had placed) leading to the veil room that he stopped his run and collapsed from fatigue against the wall. Voldemort was exhausted. Over time, without understanding why, this place had become his refuge. The place where he could let go without risking being observed or simply disturbed. And the more his army progressed in its conquest of the world, the more time he spent there.

First to reflect and now to hide his weaknesses from his servants. The conquest, which had initially been swift and exhilarating, had gradually turned into an ordeal for the dark lord. And again, could one speak of conquest given the little control he had over these territories? Most had just become lawless areas returned to complete anarchy, from which resistance movements regularly emerged, paralyzing his efforts. And this, even at the heart of his empire. While he had believed that the fall of the Hogwarts enclave and the massacre of all its inhabitants would put a definitive end to any attempts at resistance, the event had, it seemed, ignited the United Kingdom.

Since then, he had to face a curiously extremely well-organized resistance. He admitted he had made a misjudgment. He thought that the destruction of the Umbrage government would allow him to complete his takeover.control of the country and make it a safe base from which he could calmly go on to conquer the rest of the world. Already he had embarked with barely enough men. If only he could have postponed his attack by a few months.

The solution would have been to take care of pacifying these territories himself, but the external front occupied him completely. There too, the actions of that cursed Constance had destabilized his strategy. He had planned for her lies and swift attack to sow confusion and terror among his enemies. He had thought he could, as in England, pit his enemies against each other and weave alliances based on false promises. And at first, that is what happened. Europe fell into his hands with disconcerting ease, with some witch communities even welcoming him as a protector. But the activism of Constance and the former leaders of the old international witch confederation had convinced, through these proofs (and others she later gathered in occupied Europe), some of his enemies (both muggles and witches) to form a fragile alliance against him.

At first, he had thought he could quickly break this ridiculous alliance by getting involved in the battle himself. However, they had reacted quickly. Instead of concentrating their forces for powerful counterattacks, he had scattered them into small groups insufficient to stop the advance of his troops, but more than enough to cause terrible damage to his army stretched to the extreme along the vast borders of his territory. Not to mention that these cowards fled as soon as he appeared on the battlefield, without trying to fight him.

At the beginning, he had appreciated the terror in the eyes of his enemies at each of his appearances and the full awareness of his overwhelming superiority that he read in their eyes. However, he was now tired of this routine consisting of an accumulation of mediocre victories and a few crushing defeats during the rare moments of rest he allowed himself. At this rate, it would take him years to conquer the world and probably centuries to destroy all desire for resistance. If he even managed to do it. The example of what had happened at Hogwarts was beginning to make him doubt.

Voldemort stood up and approached the now inert veil. Although not an ounce of magic emanated from the old stone arcane anymore, he shivered. Suddenly, it was like a revelation. That feeling of unease he was experiencing. That cold grip around his soul too weak to achieve his ends, he had already felt it on the worst day of his life. The day when his destiny was stolen from him by that vulgar mudblood who refused to hand over her child. He, who had the kindness to spare her life in exchange for her child, had her maternal love spat in his face.

From the orphanage, he had a lot of trouble with the concept of love. He first convinced himself that he had a problem in not being able to feel it, then he understood that love was a lie. A story that men had invented to avoid killing each other.

Then there had been Lily Potter. According to the books he had read, the ancient magic she had used to disrupt the creation of his last Horcrux could only work if the sacrifice was motivated by genuine love. However, the world had sufficiently proven to him that love did not exist. Could it be that another force was at work that day when he nearly achieved true immortality? The prophecy, which he had been unable to fully obtain from Potter's mind, spoke of a power that the Dark Lord knew not.Was she talking about the mysterious power behind the relics? What connection was there between them and the Potters? What would happen if he tried to create new horcruxes? Would this force manifest itself again?

Since his resurrection, he still hadn't taken the time to create new horcruxes. He told himself it was due to a lack of time or a sufficiently important victim. But deep down, Voldemort was afraid.

Voldemort let out a huge scream filled with pain, anger, and frustration, before starting to demolish the ancient arch with bombarda that covered the room with a thick cloud of dust and a smell of sulfur. When the dust settled, only debris remained of the arch. Then with a crazed look, he said, staring at the sky:

Whoever you are, I will find you and I will kill you. It's time to put an end to these stupid little games. I can no longer afford to waste my time. It's time to change methods. Subtlety is over, the world will know what it costs to resist Lord Voldemort.

Then he left with an evil laugh.

Yes, that's it! Why didn't I think of it sooner?

Then he shriveled up and continued in a very different tone:

It's true that it would be violent. Such barbarity is not worthy of the heir of Slytherin.

Then he began to pace back and forth, continuing to talk to himself.

But what am I saying? Yes, these are Gryffindor methods, so what? If there's one thing I've always agreed with Dumbledore on, it's that all houses have their value. Voldemort always respected the courage and simplicity of Gryffindors and vilified the Slytherins who got bogged down in needlessly complex plans to excuse their cowardice. What, my Death Eaters? Those larvae will follow me no matter what I ask of them. I've trained them well. Anyway, they're too stupid to understand my intentions.

Then he left the room, repeating to himself one last time: it's the only way. I can't wait any longer.

A few moments later, a rat jumped from the ceiling beams where it had been hiding to gracefully reach the ruins of the ancient stone arch. After a quick inspection of the area using its developed sense of smell, which informed it that it was definitely alone, its body quickly elongated and it became a small man with a balding head and shifty eyes who let out a sigh of relief. Earlier, he had truly believed he had been discovered and that his last hour had come. But he didn't have time to rest to recover from his emotions.

He had been watching the dark lord in his moments of intimacy when he believed himself alone for a while. He was mulling over the prophecy and Dumbledore's last words. Little by little, a plan had started to form in his mind. A completely crazy plan. A plan so absurd that he had made an effort to push it to the back of his mind.

But he no longer had time to find a better one. Whatever the new plan of the Dark Lord was, if it was terrible enough that even he had qualms about implementing it, then everything had to be done to stop him. He absolutely had to find Theodore Nott.

OooOoOoOoOo

The next day, Voldemort called an exceptional meeting of all his Death Eaters in his office at the top of the ministry, transformed for the occasion into a throne room.

Did you understand my orders well?

Yes, my lord. But what should I say to the French wizards I gathered on the eastern front?

Tell them to hold their position.

But my lord...

What? Voldemort spat angrily.

The Death Eater with a strong Slavic accent knelt and said in a trembling voice, anticipating the terrible punishment that would surely befall him:

The allies have retaken Voronezh and are heading towards Kharkiv. Without your help, we will not be able to resist their advance.

But to his great surprise, Voldemort answered.

This is of no importance. Have your men hold their position and slow them down as best they can. Ha! And put those werewolf scoundrels on the front line.

After these last words, his Death Eaters bowed and began to leave the room hastily.

Did I tell you that the meeting was over? One of you has not yet received their orders. The dark lord interrupted them.

Everyone looked at each other with a questioning look on their faces. During the meeting, everyone had just received a series of absurd orders that were completely contradictory and practically impossible to accomplish perfectly. In any case, not if they also wanted to continue the pacification of the provinces that the master had assigned to them on the continent.

Draco! Called Voldemort.

A feeling of relief spread through the room, and a few smiles appeared well hidden behind the masks of white marble. Witnessing the humiliation of the last of the Malfoys after several generations of having to bend the knee before them was extremely gratifying. Only Bellatrix Lestrange did not fully enjoy the celebration, but this only doubled the pleasure of the spectators who knew that she would not fail to punish her nephew for not yet regaining the master's favor.

He advanced barefoot, in his patched robes. Despite his miserable appearance, he walked with pride, glaring with disdain at those who dared to raise their eyes to better see his downfall. Once in front of the throne, he knelt and with a defiant air asked:

Yes Master. What do you want me to wash? Your house elf is at your service.

An outraged and anticipatory murmur spread through the room. But the dark lord merely smiled. Draco should have been worried, but despite all this time, he had never been able to. His mind was so filled with hatred for the scarred one and the thing that had taken possession of him that he had no room left for fear.

Should I understand, dear Drago, that you find the missions I entrust to you unworthy of you?

Whatever the task, serving you is an honor, my lord. Drago forced himself to reply servilely. If he died here, he could never accomplish his revenge.

Endoloris! When Lord Voldemort asks a question, he expects an answer.

All the Death Eaters present started to laugh when they saw the young teenager begin to scream in pain. Once Voldemort lifted the spell, young Draco said, crying:

Yes, my lord.

Yes, what?

Yes, I find them humiliating. What he doesn't say is that he found it even more humiliating to have to admit it in public.

So young and yet already so arrogant. I should punish you for that. But on the other hand, this ambition does credit to Slytherin.That is why I have decided to give you an opportunity to show me what you are capable of. This morning a terrible rumor reached my ears, the center of this annoying rebellion that is growing day by day in our beautiful English lands would be Fort Nott. You know, your friend with whom you spent most of your summer before your father betrayed me.

Yes, I know her, my lord. He replied, trembling with anticipation as every time the dark lord mentioned his father's crimes. Then, seeing that nothing followed, he continued: her defenses are impressive, but there is no doubt that you will overcome them.

Endoloris!

You idiot! Do you think Lord Voldemort has nothing better to do? Haven't you listened to anything that was said? I don't have time to make up for the result of your incompetence. No, I'm giving you 3 months to crush this cursed resistance. Succeed and you will be honored beyond your expectations. Not only will I forgive you for your father's actions and return your ancestral estate, but you will also have the honor of receiving my mark and standing as an equal among my followers. Fail and I will ensure that it is the last time your family disappoints me. Think of your mother, given her condition I'm not sure she can withstand another punishment.

Yes, my lord, but how could I penetrate the defenses of Fort Nott? Drago asked, holding back tears.

So, young arrogant one, you want to play the grown-up, but you give up at the first difficulty. Use your brain, you fool. Why do you think I entrusted you with this mission? Use what you know about your friend and the traitor to his blood who accompanies him to find him and force him to open the doors of his fortress. Then kill him and all the other rebels.

After this final explanation, Voldemort stood up and headed towards the exit. Then, opening the door, he turned to face the still kneeling crowd:

On the way, I would destroy Moscow. Their victory at Voronezh should not give them too much hope.

Once he had left, everyone stood up. Only Draco remained petrified on the ground. He only started to move when his aunt gave him a hit on the back of the head while whispering in his ear:

You better not fail.

As if he needed that nutcase to understand him.

Press brief 4

Author's note: From there I decided to transform the news briefs into a parody of a TV news broadcast, based on the model of theguignols de l’info or fromjournal des briques. I hope this burlesque interlude will please you, even if its tone contrasts with that of the rest of the fanfic.

oOoOoOo

Hello, you are on CNN, it is October 20, 1994, and for once we are starting this news bulletin with good news. After several days of searching, firefighters sent to Moscow by the international community have managed to save a 9-year-old child from the rubble of his house, bringing the total number of survivors to 195. The president himself went to the site to commend the courage of the American soldiers and firefighters who participated in the rescue operations and announced that the USA would once again take their part in the fight against barbarism alongside our Russian allies.

The image of the TV set where the presenters are disappears to make way for a row of soldiers saluting the arrival of the president at attention in front of the ruins of Red Square.

Madame Lewinsky, please present a medal to this brave soldier.

Yes Mr. President.

But Monica, what are you doing? Why are you pulling down my pants?

But Mister President, it was you who asked me ... Oooh! That soldier.

The image abruptly switches back to the presenters.

Ahem! Ahem! Without transition, to discuss the violent riots that shook most major American cities last night, we now welcome the leader of the Democratic rebels and representative from Vermont, Bernie Sanders. The Republican Party favorite and Governor of Texas, Mr. George W. Bush, and Vice President Al Gore. Mr. Sanders, to start this interview, do you condemn the violence?

Of course, I strongly condemn the excesses, however, I understand the anger that drives our fellow citizens in the face of the inability to find work in these times when unemployment exceeds 30%, and I think that...

But after all, they have no reason to complain. Despite the recent blockade of the Strait of Hormuz which drove oil prices up to 150 dollars a barrel, thanks to the courageous action of our government, the crisis is over. It's all in my film: 'An Inconvenient Truth'.

How could one consider it finished with inflation over 20% and so many families who ...

So you find the violence legitimate? Interrupted the presenter.

But no, really. And then that's not the question. The question is how to address the legitimate concerns of our fellow citizens who expressed themselves last night and elsewhere...

My dad, he said that we shouldn't be afraid of black people. Interrupted George Bush.

Black, do you mean Mr. Bush? Asked the host.

No, blacks, why?

Hmm! Hmm! Indeed, and by the way, we will immediately review the disturbing images of the bloodthirsty barbarians who attacked the honest merchants of the capital.

For a few minutes, the image of the TV set fades to make way for videos of protesters peacefully holding signs askingAn increase in social aid with the backdrop of an isolated person throwing cinder blocks at a shop window.

The entire country was shocked by these images, gentlemen, how do you plan to respond to the crisis?

We will increase the interest rates of 3-year OATs in order to encourage a sudden but controlled increase in the long-term rate spread with the Brazilian real, complemented by an exceptional increase in the depreciation allowance limit over 5 years.

In French, please? Asked the presenter.

We're going to give a ton of money to the industrialists, without any conditions, hoping that they will hire.

Mr. Sanders, do you condemn the violence? Asked the presenter.

I already told you yes.

No, but it's to be sure. And you, Mr. Bush, what is your solution? asked the presenter.

We must bomb all the Mr. Bricolages and burn all the Leroy Merlins. That way, no more cinder blocks!

Hmm! Hmm! What do you say to the statements of the new president of the army of God and the member of your party who support them, who claim that these protests are caused by, I quote: 'the demonic spawn that has infiltrated our glorious nation'?

At my birthday, dad invited a magician who pulled lots of pretty balloons out of his hat. He was very nice. Replied George Bush.

Words of reassurance that warm the heart. Mr. Sander, do you condemn the violence?

No, but is this a joke? I think that ...

Ha, ha! You said no. Rejoiced the presenter.

A banner appears

Quote from Bernie Sanders: I urge my supporters to kill their baby, rape their wife, and defecate on the carpet

But I never said that!

You know, it's the thought that counts. International news, now we are live with the spokesperson of the Chinese Communist Party to talk about the famine affecting Southeast Asia.

Hello, it's us, the Tinois.

What can you tell us about the famine currently affecting Southeast Asia?

No famine in the glorious and powerful democratic republic of China. Just a sugar-free diet. Such an abundance of food that the Chinese have to watch their figure. And gluten-free, because the Chinese are very health-conscious. And without vegetables, because they are full of pesticides. And without meat because the Chinese are very concerned about animal welfare.

So what are they eating then?

From the earth. Many trace elements. Very good. Did I tell you about my grandmother's earth pie? Very balanced dish.

A jingle starts:Mao knows how to make good soil, Mao knows how to make good soil(Note from the author for those who don't get the reference:Café Grand-mère .

Okay, the real reference is:Pub café Grand-mére 1983 )

Hmm! Hmm! And what do you think of the recent senate vote where the Republican senators allied with some of the Democratic senators toforce the American government to suspend wheat exports abroad in order to reduce the runaway inflation of food products since the end of food exports from Europe?

This is a democratic scandal. Since when, in a democracy, does the parliament dictate its conduct to the government?

Oh, you know, we're all a bit shaken by the period, but don't worry, in some time everything will return to normal. Replied the presenter.

oOoOoOo

Author's note 1: The joke with Bill Clinton is a rather tacky reference to the relationship between Bill Clinton and Monica Lewinsky, but it's not my fault, Your Honor, it's the fault of the 90s.

Author's note 2: For those who may not know, George Bush Jr. is the son of Bill Clinton's predecessor in the White House. That's why he is parodied as a child who constantly quotes his father.

Author's note 3: There are plenty of little arrangements with reality in this chapter. For example, in real life, George Bush will be elected governor of Texas a month later. And in the context of the story, there is a strong chance that this election will be postponed and that Texas will remain in the hands of the Democrats. But I wanted to mention it, so I allowed myself to cheat a little with reality.

Author's note 4: In the 90s, following the dissolution of the USSR, there was a great famine in North Korea that killed many people. In my story, I make the assumption that if Europe had also disappeared, the famine would have spread to the entire region.

Casus belli

Drago let out another sigh where impatience and despair mingled. It had been 3 days now that he had been crouching in the bushes, hoping to catch sight of his target.

Or rather hoping for a miracle. What were the chances that Nott would pass by this dirt path? However, he had no other idea, so he convinced himself that he must have sought asylum with the Zabinis. That the Zabinis must have decided to take refuge in their only magically fortified home, whose location he could pinpoint. That for one reason or another, Nott would one day come out of hiding. That during the 10 years since his father had been forced to sell this refuge to the Zabinis for a pittance, another access route had not been built. And of course, that Nott would foolishly take the path instead of using a broom to fly over the devil's snare wall that protected the building.

Fortunately, aside from the uncertainty and fear of the future that twisted his insides, this waiting was not unpleasant. The old him would have fidgeted impatiently and complained at length about the lack of comfort in this remote countryside spot. But today, he felt an intense relief at being able to escape, even for a moment, the cries of pain and humiliations. Here, he could pretend that everything was normal and start behaving like the carefree teenager he no longer was.

And then, he considered himself lucky that chance had allowed him to locate one of the probable hiding places of the traitor. Before the lord of darkness decided to confiscate all their possessions to support his war effort, the goblins had forced him to submit to a mountain of paperwork and inventory.

At first, he had mainly expressed his dissatisfaction to the goblin in charge of managing his family's estate. He didn't need additional annoyance and couldn't stand this activity that constantly reminded him of his father's absence. However, very quickly, the Goblin office had become a refuge, the only place where he could let go without the fear of red eyes secretly watching him.

He had then devoted himself zealously to his task and had discovered his father's most shameful secret: their family was on the brink of ruin. To pay the fines and bribes that allowed him to avoid Azkaban, Lucius had been forced to hastily sell many of their most lucrative properties to upstarts who took advantage of the situation to bleed his family dry. In the following years, to maintain their lifestyle, prestige, and especially their political influence, his father had no choice but to gradually sell off the family's assets. While the situation had been more or less under control until recently, the master's return had turned their deficit into an abyssal hole. To please the terrible dark wizard, his father had spent lavishly. This discovery had put him in a black rage, but in the evening, returning to serve that abject being, he had to pretend nothing was wrong.

Then the days passed, each filled with new discoveries that gradually destroyed the world in which he had grown up. In the torrent of horrors he had witnessed, he began to forget what was, all in all, only a slight inconvenience compared to what he now had to endure every day. Until he received that senseless order from the lord of darkness.

An order he knew was deliberately impossible. For one reason or another, the dark lord had decided to finish him off. Why now? Heknew nothing about it. He had long resigned himself to not surviving this war. Deep down, he was eagerly awaiting this moment. At certain times, he even tried to convince himself that his disappearance would free his mother from the manipulations of the lord of darkness.

Nevertheless, his hatred was too great for him to allow himself to give up. He knew he was going to leave. But not before having the satisfaction of seeing the suffering and fear in the eyes of those who had made his life a hell. His list was long. Too long for a single life, and many names would forever remain out of his reach, but he would take as many with him as he could.

He had then set to his task with the energy of despair and remembered one of the names on his list: Aurora Zabini, Blaise's mother. This name that came up so often among those who had taken advantage of his family's downfall to get rich. So-called purists who had sacrificed nothing for the cause and had instead pounced like vultures on the old families ruined by years of war. He now understood why his father had insisted so much that he welcome these upstarts at the social gatherings and teas that his father regularly organized at the manor for the cream of wizarding society (to which the Zabinis should never have had access given the youth of their lineage and the scandalous reputation of the beautiful Aurora).

During these tedious meetings, the only child whose presence Theodore Nott seemed to tolerate by his side was Blaise Zabini. Even though he had never really wanted the friendship of this boy with the unsightly nose and dark character, he had always been extremely annoyed by the indifference shown to him by the Nott heir. But once he understood that his whims would not make the young heir yield, he lost interest. In any case, from the time he entered Hogwarts, he was too busy making the other Slytherins accept his rank in order to prove to his father that he was his worthy heir, to be concerned with the discreet Lord Nott.

Then in the second year, that pest Jenny Nott had arrived at Hogwarts and seemed determined to ruin his life. He didn't want to disappoint his father by letting that tainted blood strut around Hogwarts as if she felt no shame for her origins. Normally, Theodore should have dealt with it, but since he persisted in being indifferent to the world around him, he had to take charge. He was convinced that his father would congratulate him for this initiative. He even thought that if he reported Theodore Nott's behavior, he would finally stop ignoring him (it was annoying in the end, he was the only student in their year who didn't react to his presence). But from the summer before his third year, he prayed every night for Nott to continue ignoring him. That day, he had behaved like a baby. Worse, even if he hadn't blamed him for anything, he knew he had disappointed his father.

When he thought about it today, he told himself how pathetic he had been. He had spent his childhood listening with admiration to his father's war stories and had promised himself that when he grew up, he would complete the purification of their race. And on the day when an opportunity arose to prove himself (and in front of his father, no less), he broke down in tears. In his father's place, he would have disowned him. Instead, his father had awkwardly comforted him and assured him that whatever path he took, if he gave it his all, he was sure he would make the Malfoy name shine. He understood very well that it was a roundabout way of telling him he didn't have what it took to take his place. So it was with a completely different mindset that he approached this third year. He stopped pretending to have a confidence he never had and tried to find that.another path his father had told him about and that could make him proud of himself. And thanks to organizational feats, he managed to hardly ever meet the gaze of the Nott heir, even though they shared the same dormitory.

That is why he never noticed that Nott had changed. When Rita Skeeter's article came out and those vile rumors spread at Hogwarts, he dismissed them with a wave of his hand. If there was one person he would never suspect of harboring any inappropriate feelings, it was that cold monster Theodore Nott. Especially with a Mudblood to boot. Then a few months later, his world shattered and he was quietly told the story of Nott's incredible escape. But it was only when he saw him arrive at the Ministry with that miserable animal by his side that he understood it was all true.

He had then used his limited skills in occlumency to push his turmoil deep into his mind and faced them. Nott seemed different from the child seeking refuge in dark corners and who shivered when approached too abruptly, whom he had always known. But he was convinced that he still had no other friends than Blaise (the mudblood did not count).

After Dumbledore's death and the fall of the Hogwarts enclave, Nott had inevitably begged the Zabinis to grant him asylum. If he were in the Zabinis' place, he would have refused, but Blaise had always been a strange pureblood. It was not for nothing that those two had grown closer. For Draco, it was clear that Blaise and Theodore Nott were together, somewhere.

And what better hiding place could the Zabinis have than this old refuge built during the war against Grindelwald, which his father had bought from an old French family just before his birth in order to hide his family there? In any case, if they had hidden elsewhere, Draco would never find them. He silenced the little voice that murmured to him that this was precisely a very good reason for them to choose to hide elsewhere. Draco had then gone to the outskirts of the estate, taking advantage of the recent decision by the Dark Lord to lift the barrier that restricted magical movements within his empire, to facilitate the preparations for his mysterious new plan. Like most Death Eaters, he found this decision as stupid as it was incomprehensible, but for once, his master's madness suited him.

He was thinking about moving to try to find a shadier hiding spot when a noise was heard on the path. Immediately, he went on high alert and listened carefully. A laugh was heard. A thunderous laugh very clearly resembling the one Baise Zabini regularly let out in their dormitory, despite all the conventions and wizarding etiquette. However, his hope quickly faded as soon as it had come when the noises turned into voices. Several of them were evidently from adults. Including a woman. He mentally hit his head: what had he been expecting? Given the context, of course, Aurora Zabini would never have let her heir go out without her supervision and a solid escort. But he refused to give up. It was already a miracle that he had made it this far, and he wasn't going to give up so close to the goal.

He began to crawl in order to see them before they reached the bend that would lead them to the edge of the protection perimeter that he could not cross. Then he finally saw their small group and hope returned. They were numerous, but their dirty clothes and tired faces convinced him that he would have no trouble dealing with them. In any case, among them, only Nott represented a real threat. If he managed to take advantage of the surprise effect to ...neutralize, the victory would be his. Fortunately, Nott seemed to have lowered his guard upon seeing the entrance to their refuge. A fatal mistake against which Nott senior had sufficiently warned him during the month he had spent training him.

Draco was kneeling, his wand firmly pointed at Nott. He took a deep breath and prepared to attack:

Stupefy!

Immediately, Draco collapsed, while the four young teenagers formed a protective circle around the adults escorting them. The adults (notably Justin's mother) were painfully aware that it should have been their role to protect the younger ones, but the situation had forced them to accept this breach of morals (and Lockhart's ego).

Where are you? Show yourself or I'll set the forest on fire. Shouted Theodore Nott

Above all, don't do that. My mother spent a fortune to plant a colony of ents there. If we anger them, we'll be turned into fertilizer before we can even say Aguamenti.

Your mother is crazy. Criticized Ginny, glancing nervously around.

On the contrary, it's genius. If they attack us, they risk hitting a tree and then... Théodore didn't finish his sentence, but everyone understood. They just had to focus on defense and should in no way risk casting an offensive spell or stepping off the path.

Then a movement appeared in the bushes. Something approached.

We shouldn't run across the protections rather than stay here. Suggested Ginny.

Apart from me, they will let no one through. By the time I find my mother and convince her to let you in, you will all be dead. We must face them here, replied Blaise.

Then a bald-headed man slowly emerged from the bushes. One arm holding the magically lightened body of Draco Malfoy on his shoulder, the other ostentatiously throwing two wands in front of him, as a sign of surrender.

Stay on your guard. There could be others. Shouted Theodore.

Let's see. Can't you see it's just a father and his son? shouted Justin's mother as she approached without noticing the incredulous looks from the other children. Seeing that no Avada came to strike down the reckless woman, Justin and Blaise finally put away their wands.

I hope Draco didn't hear anything, otherwise your mother is dead. Blaise said to lighten the mood.

You're crazy, he's a Death Eater. Theodore shouted while aiming at Peter and regularly glancing at the bushes, expecting at any moment to see a flood of enemies emerge from them.

Yes, but even if I hate to admit it, Drago helped us at the ministry. Justin reassured him.

But not him. Theodore Nott exasperated.

With his free hand, he pointed at the bald man.

It is Peter Petrigrow, one of the most loyal servants of the Dark Lord.

He doesn't look dangerous. Commented Ginny, who nevertheless kept her wand raised in his direction.

He is not dangerous. And he hasn't served the dark lord for a long time. Peter shouted, holding his hands in the air after leaving Drago's body with Justin's mother, assuring her that he was just under the influence of a paralysis spell.

Justin's mother wasn't sure it was that harmless, but she trusted the man's tone and her son's lack of reaction. Lockhart and the survivor's lookalike, however, kept religiously silent, staying safely behind the teenagers.

That's what the Potters believed until you sold them out, accused Theodore Nott.

How do you know about that? Peter replied, turning pale.

My father told me about it.

I had hoped that you and your father didn't share so many things. Said Peter in a somber tone.

We only shared the bare essentials. And the list of exploits of the person responsible for the return of the dark lord was part of it. Do you really expect us to believe that the dark lord's favorite decided to betray him on a whim?

Immediately, they all raised their wands and Lockhart let out a frightened sob.

Not on a whim, no. From the beginning, I have been conspiring against him and delivering information to Dumbledore.

And we see the result.

If I had really been loyal to You-Know-Who, I would have stopped you from freeing Constance. Yes, I was there that day and I watched you. Peter admitted in front of their incredulous expressions before continuing:

Or afterwards, I would have denounced Drago. If truly I am your enemy, then explain to me, why would I have taken the risk to come and speak to you?

There, he scores a point, Théo. In any case, we can't stay still like that at the best part of the path. Stun him and bring him inside the protections.

Unless he actually wants us to let him in. Replied Theodore Nott.

You're paranoid. Justin reproached him.

I agree with Theodore. Added Justin's mother to everyone's great surprise. Then she continued: We cannot risk introducing an enemy into our refuge. And certainly not without Aurora's consent. We must settle this now.

Me too, I agree. Announced Peter. Knowing the matriarch of the Zabinis, if she gets her hands on you, she won't let you take a single step outside her supervision until this war is over. Yet I need you to come back with me to England. Besides, it's fortunate that Miss Weasley is with you. She will be very useful to us in fulfilling the prophecy. As he expected, the mention of the prophecy had sparked keen interest among the purebloods.

A prophecy? What prophecy. Speak or I will make you regret what you did to Harry. Ginny growled sharply as she approached him with eyes filled with flames.

Peter lowered his hands and began to recite:

The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches... Born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies... and the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal, but he will have power the Dark Lord knows not... and either must die at the hand of the other, for neither can live while the other survives...

What is that? Asked Blaise.

According to Dumbledore, the key to defeating the Dark Lord. Peter replied.

In case you hadn't noticed, Dumbledore is dead. Continued Theodore with a cynical air.

I know, I was there when it happened. Peter stated.

Oh what a coincidence. Théodore sneered

Théo, give him a chance. What does this gibberish mean? And how does it concern us? asked Justin.

It seems obvious to me. Harry was born at the end of July. Assuming it's a real prophecy, it announces that Harry was going to defeat the Dark Lord 11 years ago. Blaise explained.

Not exactly, she announces that Harry has a power capable of defeating the Dark Lord. Against Peter

Well, you'll have to get your crystal ball fixed. You-know-who killed Harry. Theodore bluntly threw.

No, he is not dead, just possessed by a horcrux. And you can save him.

What is a horcrux? Another one of your inventions? Theodore threatened him.

That's what the diary was, isn't it? Ginny intervened, her voice trembling.

Yes. Peter simply replied. Before his defeat against Harry, You-Know-Who had created 5. During the last year, Dumbledore and he went in search of the 4 that remained. They destroyed 3. The last one was a ring that he now constantly wears around his hand. When Dumbledore and he got close to its hiding place, they were seized by a violent urge to take it which neither of them could resist. The moment Harry put it on, it took full control. Since that day, I have stayed by the Dark Lord's side and spied on him for Dumbledore. Peter narrated, slightly embellishing the reality.

Could someone explain to me? Théodore asked.

Ginny lowered her eyes and took a deep breath.

In the second year, it was I who opened the Chamber of Secrets.

"Pardon!?" shouted Justin, turning his wand towards Ginny.

It wasn't my fault. I was possessed by You-Know-Who, because of a diary he had enchanted to contain a copy of himself. At first, he could only possess me for a few hours and I wasn't aware of anything. Then he took full control and tried to use my life energy to come out of the diary. Harry arrived in time and saved me.

"It's impossible," replied Théo. "Such a thing cannot exist. An enchantment cannot have its own will."

Théo is right. Blaise added.

Ginny didn't know what to say. After what had happened, she had tried to find answers in the library and had reached the same conclusions as them. However, she was sure of what had happened in the room.

It was not an enchantment. The journal contained a piece of the Dark Lord's soul. Peter explained.

Upon hearing this explanation, Ginny felt an intense sensation of coldness and defilement. However, she explained:

I have already heard the thing that lived in the diary whisper the word horcrux. Especially towards the end. But I never discovered what it meant. All I found was a mention in a restricted book stating that it was such dark magic that no mention would be made of it.

It's logical. If such magic exists, it's normal that the headmaster didn't leave the books describing it within the students' reach. Added Blaise.

All that is well and good, but there is an inconsistency in this story. If all this is true, how is it that Harry was possessed almost instantly? And while he was with Dumbledore? Asked Theodore.

Peter looked at Ginny with hesitation, then confessed what he thought was the truth:

To destroy the diary and free Ginny, he had to mix his blood with that of the horcrux. Since then, he regularly struggles to prevent the dark lord from possessing him. That's why there was that incident in third year. And others you are not aware of. I suppose putting on the ring was the last straw. At least, I think so. I'm not a specialist in dark magic.

I'm sorry. Ginny apologized to no one in particular.

It's not your fault. Justin offered awkwardly, lowering his wand that he had continued to point at Ginny without really knowing why.

Okay, let's say we believe you. Why are you telling us all this? How does it concern us?

Yes, what's your plan to save Harry? Justin supported him.

Justin! Sighed Théodore and Justin's mother in the same synchronized movement of weariness that made them turn towards each other.

What!? Asked Justin.

It's the tone you use just before suggesting doing something incredibly stupid, like going to save Theodore in the middle of a Death Eater meeting. Blaise explained.

Thank you for admitting that it was a mistake. Explained Theodore (whom Justin's mother was beginning to suspect of reading her thoughts)

I said it was stupid, not that it was a mistake. Blaise replied seriously.

You make me want to vomit. Drawled the lazy voice of Draco Malfoy.

Since when did you free yourself from the binding spell? Theodore asked coldly, summoning bonds around his wrists that he could not break.

For long enough to know that you are idiots. I can't believe you are still alive if you are naive enough to believe you have any chance against the Dark Lord. We have lost and Peter knows it. He just wants to steal my glory by convincing you to follow him to England where he can deliver you to the other Death Eaters and thus maintain his position as a favorite. Do you think you can trust him after he betrayed his best friends?

You don't know what you're talking about, kid. You didn't experience the first war and you don't know what happened. Against Peter, visibly uncomfortable.

Malfoy must have sensed his discomfort, because he suddenly continued more confidently:

I did not authorize you to address me informally, traitor, and I know enough to form an opinion. You had the protection and trust of Dumbledore, Lord Potter, and Lord Black. And yet you chose to enter the service of the Dark Lord. And don't try to make us believe that you were working for Dumbledore all this time. The old lemony one would never have allowed you to deliver the Potters to him, and he would never have let my cousin rot in prison for so long if he knew he was innocent.

That's why I joined Dumbledore. To redeem myself. Listen, I know what I did was wrong, but you don't know what it's like to face him.

Yes, we have no idea. Spat Justin.

Justin, that's enough. Théodore ordered him.

But Théo.

Here, I am the one who knows best how difficult it is to resist him. What it can cost. Even today, I don't know why I finally decided to say no to him, and I can't blame anyone for not having found the courage to do the same. Not even a Gryffindor.

His understanding words did Peter a world of good, but they didn't seem to please Drago, who sneered:

Ah, what noble words from the great Lord Nott. I would almost shed a little tear.

Shut up, Malfoy. Blaise retorted.

After the mudblood, here is the traitor to his blood. Since we were very young, you defend him, but you never wondered why he became your friend when he pushes everyone else away?

Me too, he pushed me away. It's just that I had decided to be his friend and I didn't care what he thought. Blaise replied.

Because his father ordered him to. From the beginning, he has been manipulating you to allow his family to get closer to the chests filled with galleons of your dear mom. Tell me, did you cry when she killed your dad? Oh yes, I forgot. She got rid of him before you were born.

Remind me, which syllable should be emphasized in avada kedavra? Joked Blaise to stop himself from strangling the blond.

Before allowing him to mingle in the receptions of the crème de la crème of wizarding society, his mother had ensured that he could remain calm in all circumstances and that he would not be affected by what people might say about her. But with the blond boy, his patience was reaching its limits.

You don't understand? From the beginning, Theodore has been using you. I know the real Theodore Nott. He is a cold and ruthless monster. He only gained your friendship to manipulate you and escape his fate as a servant of You-Know-Who. He only got closer to Potter and the mudblood to convince Dumbledore of his good faith. If he were truly your friend, he would come with me to surrender to the Dark Lord in exchange for your...

Silence! Ah, damn it feels good. Can someone explain to me what he's doing here, that one? Justin said while Malfoy moved his lips in the air.

I tried to convince the lord of darkness to give me the necessary means to find you by pointing out that the heir of the Nott could provide him with the key to the fortress of Fort Nott, which is currently used as a base by the English resistance. Unfortunately, he decided to send Draco to search for you. I then followed him without much hope, using... my camouflage skills. To my great surprise, he managed to find you in record time.

And can we know why you tried to send You-Know-Who after us? Shouted Theodore.

Because I had to find you as soon as possible? You and the Dursleys. By the way, where are they? Tell me they are waiting for you inside the Zabini's refuge.

They stayed in England in the Hogwarts enclave. They probably died when You-Know-Who took over. Blaise explained in a sad voice.

No, the dark lord forced us to search for their bodies in vain for days. They must be hiding at Fort Nott with the rest of the resistance.

No one is hiding at Fort Nott. Théodore stated with certainty.

The prisoners who were questioned claim the opposite, replied Peter.

Well, they lie. The gates of Fort Nott only open for a Nott.

Why didn't we just go hide there? Blaise asked, pretending to hit his head.

Because at the time, I thought we would be safer abroad. And also because I hadn't thought that now Fort Nott was mine. He said in an emotionless voice that he adopted less and less often lately.

Théo, it was a rhetorical question, not a reproach. Blaise explained.

Well, we're not making progress. What's your plan to save Harry? Justin intervened.

Peter then rubbed his hands awkwardly.

Do you remember the prophecy?

Yes. They all answered in unison.

Peter then explained his plan to them. Once he finished, the four teenagers exchanged looks that sent shivers of fear through the adults who, until then, had not dared to intervene.

It is out of the question that you risk your life again. And certainly not with such a dubious plan. Justin's mother intervened.

Mom! shouted Justin.

No, this time, you are going to listen to me. You are my child, if something happened to you, I don't know if I could get over it.

I love you too, Mom, but you don't understand, it's important.

Oh, yes I understand very well. That's exactly why I won't let you go. She said in a furious tone, starting to grab his wrist to force him to move towards the barriers.

Justin raises his wand.

Mom, I beg you, don't make me do this. If I don't help them... If I can prevent this massacre, I must try everything.

And I must do everything to prevent you from risking your life unnecessarily. I was your age too. I know what it's like to fight for a cause you believe in. A cause that is supposed to change the world. But if life has taught me one thing, it's that all these fights turn into a struggle to bring a new tyrant to power, even more terrible than the old one. Sooner or later, we must resign ourselves to wanting only to change the actors in the play, hoping they will keep their promise to improvise a new scenario. But you know what? Once in power, they hurry to betray their promise and then neutralize their former allies, and in the end, things only get worse. Do you really think that bringing down this dark lord will change the course of the war? That one man can have such an influence on the course of history?

Harry is my friend and if there is still a chance to save him, I must try.

The mawkishness of this reply made Drago (whom everyone had ended up forgetting) sigh, however, Justin's mother began to smile and said to him:

I am proud of you my bunny. But I will not let you go there.

I am no longer a child. I have the right to make my own choices.

Do you think that being an adult is enough to have the right to make your own choices? That it's a question of size, age, or even maturity? If that's the case, then it's proof that you are still just a child. Listen to me, I know I'm just a Muggle. No, let me continue without interrupting me, she added when her son was about to protest. For you, I don't understand anything that's going on and I don't have an informed opinion. At your age, I thought the same thing about my mother's advice. How could a simple cleaning lady...Understand anything about my problems? How could she help me get my diploma or choose my studies? If you knew how much I regret the disdain I showed towards her. How her advice turned out to be full of common sense and the number of times I almost lost everything because I refused to follow it.

It has nothing to do with it.

Yes, it has everything to do with it. My mother let me make my own choices very early because she was convinced that I would survive long enough from their consequences to learn from my mistakes. Even when she was convinced I was on the wrong path. Even when I was unbearable with her, she stayed by my side and supported me as best she could. I'm sorry, Justin, but I can't give you that freedom. If you really want to go, you'll have to prove to me that you have what it takes to have a chance of surviving.

Mom, please.

If you can't even face your mother, then you have no business on a battlefield. She shouted as she lunged at him, with the obvious intent to disarm him.

Petrificus Totalus. Shouted Justin when she was a centimeter from her wand.

I am sorry, mom. Before leaving, I will make you levitate to the edge of the protections and these two will stay with you to alert Zabini's mother. He said, pointing to Lockhart and the impostor who were delighted not to have to accompany them.

As he levitated his mother's body as delicately as possible, Nott approached him.

I know how you feel. I've been through it too. Nott said, placing a hand on his shoulder.

It has nothing to do with it. Justin pushed him away.

Indeed. If my father had looked at me like that, I would never have dared to oppose him.

What nonsense. Exclaimed Drago, pretending to vomit. He then realized that the Silencio spell had worn off.

Do we have to take that one with us? Asked Justin angrily.

That one is a thousand times better than you, mudblood. And he too has a score to settle with the scarred one. Commented Draco.

No, we can also leave him alone with your mother or kill him. Nott replied calmly.

As if that wretch had the courage necessary to kill me. Drago said with feigned confidence that failed to mask the worried glances he cast in Nott's direction.

Frankly Théo, I think I preferred it when you didn't know how to joke.

But are you blind in addition to being stupid? He's a murderer? A pure-blooded Slytherin. He'll get rid of us as soon as we're no longer useful to him. Your only chance is to let me take him away. Do you want me to tell you what he did to the house-elf who raised him? Shouted Draco towards Justin.

At these last words, Théodore paled and Justin saw him move away and adopt his somber look of great days. Justin decided he had no desire to know what had happened to his friend's nanny. Or rather, he had no desire to learn it from the mouth of Drago Malfoy. He stopped abruptly, turned around, and punched Drago Malfoy hard in the face.

Listen to me carefully, you degenerate inbred residue. In case you haven't understood, the only reason you're still alive is that we prefer to tolerate you rather than kill. So if I were you, I would make sure thatIt lasts. Théodore is my friend and whatever he did in the past won't change that. Is that clear?

I think I'm a bad influence on you. Commented Theodore with a smile.

Don't worry, if they ask me, I'll say Blaise is the culprit.

Hey, why me? exclaimed Blaise.

Because girls love bad boys. Once we spread the rumor, they will all fall for you. Justin replied immediately.

When they ask us, don't forget to tell them that it was me who punched Malfoy. Blaise added, delighted by the idea.

Boys, do you want to know why no girl has ever gone out with you? Remarked Ginny with an exasperated look.

Because they have no taste? Asked Blaise

Because you are a bunch of repulsive and misogynistic jerks.

Thank you.

Return to Fort Nott

When the world stopped spinning around her, Ginny let out a deep sigh of relief. As promised by Peter, their portkey brought them to the center of a clearing overlooking a gigantic cliff on which stood a proud ancient fortress. She saw the other teenagers lower their wands and she lost herself in wonder at the sight of the immense granite towers. The building, with its millennial lines and jet-black color, exuded an unsettling aura probably meant to deter potential invaders, but it must not have been pleasant to grow up in such a place. Despite everything, Ginny exclaimed in admiration.

Impressive, isn't it? Nott boasted with a certain pride.

My mother never wanted us to have a castle like the other pure-bloods. She said it was a waste of galleons. And that a woman with a castle was... Anyway, she didn't find it appropriate. Commented Blaise.

My parents' castle is bigger, but they don't live there. They just bought it for tax purposes. No idea what that means. Said Justin with a blasé look.

Do not compare our proud homes with the pigsty where you were born. Malfoy taunted.

Ginny and Theodore were about to reply, but Justin stopped them with a gesture to tell them that it was not important.

Well now that everyone has been able to see that the fortress is empty, does anyone have an idea of how we could find the Dursleys? Ginny, I'm sure your brothers could inform us. Are you sure you have no way to contact them?

No, and even if I had one, I wouldn't give it to you. You would take the opportunity to leave me behind.

Normally, that's what we would have done. But if Peter is right, it's better that you come with us. Theodore replied.

I think we need to go back. Declared Peter.

Why bother, you can clearly see there's no one? Théodore opposed vehemently.

You don't know anything about it. It wouldn't surprise me if the resistance had enchanted their HQ so that from the outside, it looks abandoned, retorted Blaise.

If I know it. Nott affirmed.

A lingering and particularly unpleasant laugh then resounded.

Why are you laughing, Malfoy? No, shut up. I prefer not to know. Declared Justin.

Don't you understand that he is manipulating you? As the new Lord Nott, he can easily know if someone is inside his fief.

How could you know that? Asked Ginny.

The Weasleys, have they really fallen so low? Pure-bloods are not as primitive as Muggles. Our estates are not just simple shelters of tin and wood. They are places of high magic to which we are bound by blood for several generations. Like Hogwarts, they are almost living beings to which we are connected by a bond of such subtlety that you cannot even understand. Though, it's true that in your position I too would prefer to forget that my magical core is linked to the dump where you live.

We'll do without your comments, Malfoy. Nott, is it true what he's saying? Accused Ginny.

Yes, but I don't see the point of activating the link, since there is no one.

Listen Theo, I understand that you don't want to go back there,... Justin began to say softly.

No, you don't understand. Malfoy is right on this point. A Muggle-born can never even conceive what this kind of magic implies. It's something you have to experience. But since you are all determined to ignore the most basic common sense, I will do it.

Before Justin could take offense at this response, Theodore used his wand to summon a ritual knife and took out the Nott seal from his satchel, which he had taken the time to pick up after burning his father's body.

He then made a slight cut in the palm of his hand.

What are you doing?

The ritual to accept my inheritance and become a full-fledged Lord Nott. He commented as he began to recite an incantation in Latin.

Once he had finished, a faint glow surrounded him for a few seconds. Then he exclaimed:

Impossible! Before starting to run towards the castle.

Wait, it could be dangerous. Peter shouted at him while the others followed him in his run. Teenagers! He sighed before using his wand to attach to a tree the bonds of Draco who was trying to escape discreetly. Then he followed them in the form of a rat. He barely managed to pass through the fortress doors that had opened on their own at Nott's approach before they closed again. He quickly found the teenagers held at gunpoint by a group of 5 wizards wearing the auror insignia hastily embroidered on dirty robes.

I don't know how you got in, kids, but you will immediately put down your wands. I'm warning you, just because you're young doesn't mean I will hold back my blows.

How dare you give me orders in this place, miserable half-bloods? What have you done with my mother?

Calm down, Theodore. You're scaring me. Attempted Justin.

Your mother is dead. Do you remember? Blaise explained in an unsteady voice.

Theodore quickly cast a vacant look at Justin before raising an arm. Immediately, the stairs of the great hall moved and collapsed on the group of wizards who only had time to scream before being knocked out. Finally, Justin and Blaise hoped they had just been knocked out. Immediately, Theodore resumed his run.

You and Ginny, check that they're okay. I'll try to bring this blockhead to his senses. He said in Blaise's direction.

No, I'll go with you.

I think it's better if I go alone, objected Justin.

Out of the question, it's too dangerous. Said Blaise, starting to follow him.

You saw their uniform, they are Aurors not Death Eaters. There is no danger.

It's not them I'm worried about, but Théo. He's not in his normal state. You heard Malfoy. It's not a normal spell he activated.

You know Théo. If there had been the slightest risk, he would never have agreed to activate it.

It's precisely because I know him that I'm worried.

They ran through corridors following the bodies of stunned wizards that dotted the path. After crossing a corridor several meters long that seemed to have been transformed into a shopping street where gigantic rooms served as stores (Despite his running, Justinhad been astounded to understand that they were bigger on the inside than on the outside), and another corridor whose doors slammed shut violently as they approached and all had a plaque with a number and the name of a family on their lintels, they emerged into what looked like a classroom.

The chapel-shaped room was beautifully lit by stained glass windows depicting, in a typical medieval style, wizards fighting monsters from Greek mythology. It might have had a soothing atmosphere if it weren't filled with desks and school belongings hastily overturned. While their owners, gathered in a corner behind a woman in her forties holding a wand, looked at him with a horrified expression, Theodore Nott advanced towards them.

The aurors are on their way. If you don't flee immediately... shouted the woman as she tried to shield the children behind her with her body.

Silence, woman.

Théodore stopped and scrutinized the room in every direction. Then his eyes settled on a 10-year-old child who was looking at him defiantly. He raised his wand with a fluid motion, and the tile under the teacher's feet suddenly lifted and propelled her to the ceiling. Before she could stop him, Théo broke the barrier she had invoked to try to protect the children with a single spell, and under the horrified eyes of his classmates and the cries of the younger ones, one of them began to levitate.

Who are you? Asked Theodore.

Theodore, let him go. What's gotten into you? Asked Blaise.

I warn you that if you do him any harm... Justin ordered, raising his wand.

"Don't get involved in this!" shouted Théo, then his eyes fluttered and he seemed to regain awareness of where he was and put down the child who remained motionless, looking him straight in the eyes with a defiant look although he was clearly scared.

Then with an icy voice Theodore said:

You look a lot like father.

I have nothing to do with you, monster. Spat the boy, as if Theodore had just insulted him.

That's correct. That's why it would be good for you to take this.

Théodore removed the ring from his finger that bore the Nott seal and threw it at the foot of the little boy who, instead of picking it up, looked at Théodore confused.

Can you explain to me? Blaise asked.

Yes, we too would like to have some explanations. Shouted an adult voice before all three of them lost consciousness.

oOoOoOo

A few hours later, Nott opened his eyes with a severe headache.

Mr. Nott, in case it's not clear enough, if I'm so unpleasant with my patients, it's because I don't want to see them again. Reasoned the voice of Greg Housser.

Theodore looked around. He was in a large room with a high ceiling built with black granite walls. If the smell of formaldehyde and the curtains surrounding his bed were removed, the place was familiar to him.

What are you doing in my home? asked Nott, feeling the familiar magic of Fort Nott envelop him in a comforting veil.

You generously granted the Ministry of Magic access to your fortress just before your departure for your top-secret mission abroad, telling us that we could take refuge there in case of trouble.

I never did that. Against Nott.

If and I advise you to never say the opposite in public again. Greg Housser ordered him.

To protect me or to protect him? Nott asked.

Housser stopped abruptly and for once his face became serious again.

What did you tell him?

Nothing that he wasn't able to guess. He shouldn't be here. Nott replied.

Why? He is only the son of a prostitute and a deceased ministry employee...

A prostitute!? That explains a lot of things.

Besides, he told me that you had left this on the ground. Said Housser, handing him a ring set with the Nott seal.

Théodore slipped it back onto his fingers and said:

Tell him that I am sorry.

Why? You didn't do him any harm. Asked Housser

Could I see him again?

No. Greg affirmed.

Why? It's my… Nott began to protest.

Precisely, remind me what your father would have done if a bastard had taken possession of his home in his absence?

I am not my father.

After your little demonstration this morning, you'll have a hard time convincing her mother.

It's not fair. Theodore spat in an immature and childish tone that seemed to annoy Housser.

If you wanted justice Mr. Nott, you chose the wrong family... the wrong country... the wrong species. By the way, can you tell me what got into you? Your friends told me you went crazy after performing a ritual. Should we expect more crises like this? Housser asked, approaching him to better gauge his reaction.

No, everything is fine. I just thought it was my mother.

Your mother is dead. She committed suicide in front of your eyes when you were 5 years old.

I have practically no memory of it. Just blurry images. Nott replied laconically, refraining from saying that in the days following the incident, he kept asking his fatherWhen would mom come back?Only because of the punishments the patriarch inflicted on him every time he asked the question. He also did not say that for years, he had secretly dreamed that his mother would cross the manor's gates and take him far away with her. So, when he sensed the presence of this magical signature both so close and so different from his own, his childhood dreams resurfaced.

Typical of post-traumatic syndrome. I really regret not insisting more with your father for you to undergo Muggle psychological therapy. In any case, I can assure you that your mother is indeed dead. I was one of the mediwizards your father called in urgently that day. Housser commented without the slightest hint of pity.

Housser finished checking that he was okay (or rather as well as possible given the circumstances), then stepped aside to let in Justin, Blaise, Ginny, and the Dursleys.

Théodore swallowed back the tears that had begun to well up along his eyes and immediately addressed the Dursleys:

You? Did Peter talk to you about his plan?

Hello to you too, Théo. Yes, we are doing well, thank you for asking. Pétunia replied in a tone that indicated she was not upset.

Then understanding his impatience:

Yes, he told us about it. We are convinced that it will work.

Vernon grumbled. Petunia rolled her eyes to the sky and continued:

I am convinced that it will work, but we will go alone, Vernon and I. It is far too dangerous for you to accompany us.

No, we must come too.

Yes, let us help you Mrs. Dursley. We also want to save Harry. Added Ginny.

You've done enough. Let the adults take care of it, will you. That Percy has had classrooms reopened for all levels in the castle. You could resume a normal life. Against Vernon.

It is only an illusion that will soon go up in smoke. We must put all the odds in our favor. In any case, it's not up to you to decide, but Percy. Let me talk to him and I'm sure I will convince him to include me in the group he will gather. Contra Nott.

He will not gather any troops. Fred announced as he entered the room wearing a worn Auror uniform. Theo noticed that he had changed a lot in a short time. His demeanor had become harsh and his posture was characteristic of the former Aurors who had paraded through Theodore's home looking for evidence of his involvement with You-Know-Who after the end of the war.

Pardon?

Since taking the reins of the resistance, Percy has developed a simple strategy: never attack You-Know-Who. With the Hogwarts elves, he sends small groups across the country to steal food, target isolated Death Eaters, and blow up buildings, but as soon as You-Know-Who shows up, they are ordered to flee with the elves without looking back. Just because he has had some success, that the confederation has imitated his strategy, that he has managed to solve food supply issues, create a cohesive community, put an end to discrimination and corruption, and... Okay, he hasn't done too badly. But he keeps bragging as if he were Dumbledore himself, and it annoys me. Fred hissed with obvious jealousy. Then he continued more calmly:

In short, he flatly refuses to change strategy and gather an assault force. He says we must continue to weaken You-Know-Who and multiply independent resistance cells. Basically, for him, it's too risky at the moment. The only thing that made him hesitate is the confirmation that He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named knows we are hiding at Fort Nott. But that doesn't change much. As part of his guerrilla strategy, Percy has already created dozens of independent resistance bases ready to take us in. And he is so traumatized by the disastrous evacuation of Hogwarts that he regularly conducts evacuation drills with the residents. If he attacks us, by the time he breaches Fort Nott's defenses, we will all have scattered to the four corners of the country using the elves.

That seems like a good strategy. The only way to defeat You-Know-Who is not to confront him, commented Nott.

I know, but it annoys me. I hate running away like a coward every time without even trying to fight back, replied Fred.

How can you say that?You want to abandon Harry?! Ginny reproached them.

The weaker he gets, the more Peter's plan will have a chance to succeed. There's no rush.

Before anyone could react, Ginny flared up:

You don't know what it's like to be possessed by this thing. To be trapped in your own body, alone and desperate. To struggle and call for help and have no one realize anything.

All the more reason not to waste our only attempt. Blaise replied in place of Théo, who seemed about to get angry.

I'm afraid we don't have that much time. Said Fred.

How so? Asked Theodore.

After your capture, we captured Malfoy and Pettigrew. Exceptionally, Percy let me attend their interrogation. It seems they didn't tell you everything.

No! The weasel and you-know-who's lapdog would have lied to us? I am overwhelmed, shattered, devastated. Declared Justin in a theatrical tone.

For once, it would be more about You-Know-Who's rat. Said Fred. I don't believe that Peter consciously hid anything from you. I have the impression that his desire for redemption is sincere. And what he says matches the strange movements we've observed among the Death Eaters.

Fred, don't beat around the bush. What did you discover? Asked Justin.

You-Know-Who plans to launch his final assault next Tuesday. We still don't know what it is, but it will be massive. More massive than anything he has done before, and he is convinced that after this, all resistance will be destroyed. Percy is convinced that the best thing to do is to shelter as many people as possible in the fortress and other hideouts we have set up over time and counterattack afterward. In any case, he refuses to risk the lives of an assault group until we know more.

So if I summarize, we have until Tuesday to save Harry. After that, either his plan failed and the resistance will have a chance to kill him, or… Justin did not finish his sentence.

From my point of view, you can forget the first option. Added Nott darkly.

Anyway, we don't even know where You-Know-Who is.

Not exactly, but Peter and another high-ranking Death Eater we captured yesterday have had their marks burning for an hour. According to the Unspeakables, the source of the Apparition signal is in the state of Colorado, in the United States, explained Fred.

After that, Nott cast all the spells he knew to preserve their privacy and they finalized their plans.

Press Brief 5

Hello, you are on CNN, it is October 30, 1994. Mr. Sanders, do you condemn the violence?

No, but it's not going to start again! Bernie Sanders protested.

No, I mean, do you condemn the violence of the Army of God?

Ah yes. Of course we condemn them. It is intolerable for fascist militias to threaten our fellow citizens and challenge the rule of law.

As you can see, the dangerous socialists are creating an atmosphere of McCarthyism in the country and are fighting against the free expression of the hardworking American workers they claim to represent, commented the presenter.

Seriously!? They killed thousands of people across the country because they thought they were witches. What does it take for you to understand that these lunatics are a threat? Sanders yelled, now hysterical.

Yes, well, we don't know the whole story. They probably had good reasons. And then, they aren't all innocent either. One of them was caught stealing candy from a grocery store when he was 10 years old.

Your words are vile.

You say that only because he is Jewish. Accused Ron Watkins, who, along with Donald Trump, was one of the 3 guests tonight.

What? Said Sanders.

But I am not Jewish! exclaimed the presenter.

You run a TV news channel, so you are Jewish. Ron Watkins specified.

But that's anti-Semitic! Sanders exclaimed.

No, it's not possible, I can't be antisemitic, I have a Jewish friend.

And he never told you that what you were saying is anti-Semitic?

Yes, all the time, but he is Jewish, he is not objective.

…

You don't say anything, Mr. Trump? Asked the presenter.

Oh no, even for me, that's impressive. Replied Trump.

And yet, you should have seen me in my youth, I managed to convince a NASA scientist that the Earth was flat, explained Ron Watkins.

Was it? Asked the presenter.

Well yes! To divert people from the true faith, the satanist reptilians made it round. Everything is written in my book for only 99 dollars in all good bookstores: the secrets of the Apollo program: why we were made to believe that we went to the moon.

A man in a janitor's outfit arrives at the studio while sweeping and whispers in Ron Watkins' ear:

Say, would you mind giving me the film adaptation rights?

Steven Spielberg, what are you doing here? Exclaimed the presenter.

Have you seen the news lately? People fighting on flying brooms, giants facing werewolves, American families having to host goblins. And all that, without special effects. I can't compete anymore, it's unfair competition, so I had to retrain. But I haven't lost hope. I just need to find something more absurd than the news.

I'm being told through my earpiece that the destruction of Moscow is suspected to have been caused by a nearsighted child armed with a stick.

Would you be interested in changing the maintenance company for your church? My company offers super clean prices.

Without transition, in international news, Sino-American tensions escalate after a new incident at the border between South and North Korea. The Republican Party accuses North Korea of forming an alliance with Harry Potter to invade South Korea. Under pressure from its Senate, now largely aligned with the Republican camp, the American government has deployed several naval and air groups to the Korean border. The Chinese government responded by repatriating a significant portion of its troops from the European front to the North Korean border and announcing an upcoming large-scale joint military exercise with North Korean forces. Many observers are concerned about the risk of incidents during what they describe as the largest deployment of forces seen in Asia since the end of the Second World War.

Despite the American president's attempts at appeasement during an exceptional meeting of the allies, Russia denounced a behaviorIrresponsible on the part of the USA while the majority of Europe is still in the hands of Harry Potter. In the absence of reassuring statements from the American executive, European governments in exile have threatened to leave the negotiating table regarding the future of Europe.

More than ever, the alliance seems weak as our troops progress slowly but surely through the lands controlled by the dark lord.

The end

Stupefy! shouted Fred towards the guard when it became clear that he was not going to believe their story. He collapsed, his face contorted with anger and incomprehension following this betrayal.

And damn it. Hurry down. We have a maximum of 15 minutes before someone notices his absence.

The troupe composed of Fred Weasley, Theodore Nott, Justin Finch-Fletchley, Blaise Zabini, Ginny Weasley, Petunia, and Vernon Dursley hurriedly descended the stairs leading to the dungeon where a chorus of screams and insults greeted them. Fred had participated in the capture of many prisoners, and even though Percy had always refused to let his little brother take part in the interrogations, Fred knew they had good reasons to scream.

They ignored them and quickly arrived at the cell specially enchanted to prevent transformations into animagi where Malfoy and Peter had been imprisoned. The latter was holding his arm, uttering plaintive murmurs.

The Lord of Darkness is angry with me. A spy must have informed him of my betrayal.

Or maybe he's just upset that you stood him up. In either case, it's a good thing we're getting out of here. Said Fred as he began the long spell to unlock the prisoners' cell.

Pardon?

Percy refuses to implement your plan. So, we will manage on our own.

You are crazy! If we go there alone, we'll never reach it. Protested Peter.

Once there, we'll find a way. Fred assured.

If even he thinks we have no chance... Vernon began.

If you don't want to come then there is no shame in staying here. Even if it kills me to admit it, Percy might be right to hole up like a rat. No offense, added Fred to Peter.

Vernon glanced at Petunia then declared:

I prefer to die up there than to live without my wife and son.

Even if we succeed, there's little chance we'll get out alive, you know? Fred insisted.

I am starting to understand why it's Percy who takes care of motivating the troops, replied Ginny.

The only thing that kept Fred from giving her a sharp reply was the still vivid memory of the bat-bogey hex she had inflicted on him when he had tried to force her to stay safe in the fortress. When she was angry, his little sister was more frightening than many Death Eaters.

Once the cell was opened, they all grabbed Peter. Under the watchful eye of Malfoy, who simply stared at them silently with a dark look, waiting for his moment. Fred then said to Peter, handing him his wand that he had retrieved earlier from the storage:

I removed the anti-apparition spells. Take us to the meeting place. Ordered Fred.

To find ourselves in the middle of an army of Death Eaters? Protested Peter.

To come face to face with You-Know-Who. Do you see another way to reach him?

By now, he must no longer be at the meeting place. We need to find something else. I thought the lead tongues had found the meeting place? Peter asked.

Their technique is still experimental. For the moment, they can only determine the region. Percy asked them to work on it as a priority so that we can locate their meeting places and launch lightning attacks with the house-elves. Fred explained.

Dobby? Shouted Petunia.

Until now, she had let their protector attend to his duties with the other house-elves of the fortress, knowing that he would not appreciate them putting themselves in danger (Since the attack on the Hogwarts enclave, the elf took his mission to protect those he now considered his masters a little too seriously).

As soon as Dobby apparated at their side. For the first time since their arrival, Malfoy could not hide a look of interest.

Mistress Petunia called.

I am not your mistress. Petunia couldn't help but remind despite the urgency of the situation.

The elf began to cry.

Master Harry also kept reminding Dobby all the time that he was a free elf. Said the elf while blowing his nose into one of his shirts.

Why did you call him? Make him be quiet, he's going to get us noticed. Fred reproached him.

Dobby, could you make us apparate right next to the place indicated by the Dark Mark?

Yes, Dobby can, but why would Dobby do that? Replied the elf with a suspicious tone.

Because it's an order. The Malfoy invective.

Shut up, Malfoy. Justin shouted at him reflexively.

Dobby is a free elf. He no longer receives orders. And certainly not from the nasty little master. He said defiantly before banging his head against the floor, saying bad Dobby.

Do not punish yourself. Intervened Petunia, you have done nothing wrong. Listen Dobby, we don't have time to explain, but we may have found a way to save Harry. I know it's dangerous, but there is no other way. I know you think your mission is to protect us, but he is my son.

Dobby understands. Dobby will do what maste.. What Madam Petunia orders him.

Take me with you. Malfoy suddenly shouted at them.

Hmm! Let me think. No. Justin replied curtly, taking Dobby's arm.

You need all the help available, the scarred man killed my father and raped my mother. I want to kill him as much as you do!

Justin ignored Petunia's startle and replied in an icy tone:

We don't want to kill him, but to save him. And in any case, we can't trust you.

ALERT!!! THE PRISONERS ARE ESCAPING. HELP. Malfoy began to shout.

But what’s gotten into you, you triple idiot? Asked Fred.

Take me with you or I'll report you. ALERT, THE WEASLEYS ARE HELPING THEM!

Silence. You wouldn't happen to know a way to launch a definitive one? Asked Justin while Malfoy started banging on the iron bars of his cell to raise the alarm.

In his case, I think only a castration spell would allow us to curtail the disease. Fred threatened humorously. It had the merit of stopping Malfoy's racket.

But it was too late and already, they heard the sound of a cavalcade on the stairs leading to the dungeons.

Dobby, it's now or never.

There are many of you and the place is far. Dobby needs to concentrate his magic. Dobby doesn't know if he will survive this spell.

What!? Dobby, I order you to stop. It's not worth it. Vernon then shouted.

Dobby is a free elf, sir.

Then the world around them became blurry. None of them noticed that Drago had managed to cling at the last moment to the stack of shirts far too large for the elf, which formed a long trail behind him.

oOoOoOoOo

Gloups! Was the sound that escaped from Drago's mouth when, in a panic, he tried to catch his breath. He then felt the water painfully enter his lungs and immediately spat it out. Then he began to struggle to move straight ahead.

A second earlier, he had felt the elf's magic give way. Or was it he who had let go too soon of the thin piece of fabric that connected him to the rest of the group? But it didn't matter. The only important thing was that he was surrounded by muddy water and had no idea where the surface was. He struggled, but without any point of reference, he felt like he was treading water and gradually, his strength left him. Slowly, he resigned himself to everything ending here. He became still and began to cry, softly calling his mother's name.

Then, through the kind of lump his mind had become, he felt something brush against his back. Without thinking, he started to kick with all his meager strength, but despite all his efforts, the thing grabbed him from behind and dragged him away. All of a sudden, immense pain seized him and he became blind.

Stop moving, you idiot, or I'll smack you one. Reasoned Justin's voice.

His eyes and lungs stopped hurting, and he could see that he was on the surface of a stinking swamp and that Justin was dragging him. Once he had regained enough strength, he violently pushed Justin away, shouting:

Don't touch me, mudblood.

You're welcome. It's always a pleasure to save your life.

I didn't ask you for anything.

But despite his warnings, the mudblood dared to wrap his arms around him again.

Stay by my side. If you relapse, I'm warning you, this time, I'll let you sink.

Drago tried to break free, but his lungs were still too traumatized by the experience he had just gone through to provide him with enough breath to be effective. And when his eyes finally adjusted to the sudden brightness and he saw the distance separating them from the nearest shore (whichwas in the opposite direction from where he had started swimming), he resolved to float on his back and let himself be carried.

Once on the shore, Justin hoisted him with his last strength onto the shore where he was left like a log of wood, while Theodore and Blaise rushed to help Justin get himself ashore and use their magic to dry him off. Drago, motionless, alone, frozen and reeking of mud, watched them while trying to regain his strength. Theodore gave a lecture to a now clean and dry Justin on the danger of what he had just done, while Blaise gave him small manly pats on the back.

Okay boys, give each other a hug once and for all and stop your drama. We have to go. Yelled Ginny.

Are you crazy!? Don't you think there are already enough rumors about those two? Blaise protested.

But Justin took advantage of this moment of distraction to take them both in his arms. Blaise immediately pulled away with a falsely outraged look, while Theodore briefly returned the embrace before ending it when Fred, Peter, Petunia, and Vernon (holding Dobby's lifeless body in his arms) approached. Among them, Draco was the only one still soaked. No one seemed to care that he didn't have a wand and was shivering to the point of chattering teeth.

Is he okay? Justin asked

Draco started, believing the question was addressed to him, but realized that all attention was directed toward that cursed elf. Had they all gone mad? He was Draco Malfoy. How could they lose interest in his fate in favor of a miserable half-crazy elf?

A priori, yes. In any case, he's breathing. He just completely exhausted his magical reserves to bring us here. With a bit of luck and a lot of rest, he should fully recover. Explained Peter.

Speaking of that, where are we? asked Vernon.

With a bit of luck, not far from the meeting place. Peter replied.

I'm not sure that 'luck' is the right word. What is he doing here, that one? Fred asked, pointing at Malfoy.

A minimum of respect wouldn't be superfluous, Weasley. Replied Draco in a haughty tone with his drawling voice.

I'm going to teach you some respect, you dirty little snake. You're going to tell me right now why you followed us. Fred advanced menacingly with his wand.

Stop! I dream as much as you of smashing his face, but Justin almost drowned saving his life. Who knows what stupid thing Justin will do again if you go after him?

On that note, Malfoy owes a life debt to Justin. Announced Theodore.

Drago nearly choked at such an outrage but remained silent. He found nothing to retort to contest Theodore's words, so for once in his life, he tried to make himself forgotten.

I don't want to have any connection with that dirty snake. Protested Justin in his place.

These words, instead of relieving, shocked Draco even more. How dared he refuse such an honor? A vermin like him should have jumped at the chance to be linked to such pure and ancient blood.

You should have thought about that before jumping in. Drago formalizes the life debt. Ordered Nott.

I don't have a wand. Against Drago in bad faith.

And I don't want them to owe me anything. Justin tried to protest once again.

Ignoring Justin's remark, Fred threw his spare wand at Malfoy's feet (it was Percy's instruction to always carry a spare wand, a first aid kit, and a dagger concealed in his boot).

Reluctantly, Draco seized it, and because four wands were now pointed at him, he performed the ritual gesture his father had taught him. Immediately, he felt a bond form between Justin and his magical core. From now on, Justin could demand a service in exchange for this life debt. Whatever the nature of said service, if Draco refused, he would lose his powers. And until his debt was paid, he was forbidden from attacking Justin or a member of his family without also losing his powers.

Well, now that the dragon has lost its fangs, what do we do? Asked Blaise

I think we should tie him up anyway. Just in case. Peter asserted.

No. Now that he's here, he might as well make himself useful. First step is to know where we are and where You-Know-Who is. After that, we'll see. Ordered Fred, who had immediately taken the lead of their small group (Ginny reflected that during the few weeks they had been apart, Fred had matured a lot).

After an argument, Malfoy returned the wand he had borrowed to Fred, and their group set off in the direction that Peter's mark indicated as the meeting place.

oOoOoOoOo

After an exhausting walk, they arrived in front of a long wire fence with a sign indicating that they were on U.S. Army property. By mutual agreement, they crossed the barrier after Fred and Peter cast a disillusionment charm on each of them. They advanced cautiously, wands in hand, but encountered no one. After a while, they heard a loud noise coming from behind a hill.

Under Fred's orders, they climbed the hill on their knees (paying attention to what Malfoy was doing). Once at the top, they saw the entrance to a military base located under a mountain guarded by a dozen Death Eaters who spent their time searching the endless parade of trucks pouring inside. On the gigantic reinforced concrete arch that served as the entrance, they could read: "Cheyenne Mountain Base, Colorado." Fred took out from his magically enchanted pocket, which increased its capacity and remained light, the pair of omnioculars that hadn't left him since the day of the World Cup and tried to understand what was happening. After a while, he realized that the trucks contained all sorts of plants and animals, both magical and non-magical. Others, rarer, contained families of wizards who didn't seem to know what they were doing there but obeyed the Death Eaters' orders while visibly terrified.

What is he up to? Fred asked in the direction of Peter and Malfoy.

Malfoy merely sniffed disdainfully.

We know nothing about it. You-Know-Who didn't let anything slip about his plan. Even to me, he said nothing. He simply entrusted us with tasks, most of the time without the other Death Eaters knowing, with the mission of speaking to no one. Before following Malfoy, I tried to understand, but he didSo compartmentalized the information that I had to give up on it. However, I pen... Peter began to explain.

Silence. Théo ordered, while Peter began to hold the mark. Suddenly the air became heavy and the sky darkened. Fred did not need to use his multiplettes to understand what was happening. They wanted to find You-Know-Who. Well, they had succeeded. The Death Eaters and various people on the site ceased all activity and knelt down while Potter descended from the sky where he was floating without the help of any visible support, the Potters' invisibility cloak fluttering in the wind behind him as the famous ring gleamed on his finger.

Behind him, framing him like an escort, three wizards on brooms were riding. Thanks to the multiplettes, Fred could recognize Bellatrix Lestrange, Narcissa Malfoy, and... Bill Clinton. How was that possible? From what he had read in Percy's documents, he was the leader of a Muggle country allied with the International Confederation of Wizards.

Her magically enchanted voice then resonated throughout the valley.

My faithful servants, you have worked well and your master is proud of you. Thanks to your diligence, we will be able to advance our plans. Be proud, for you will soon witness the birth of a new era. Starting tonight, all your sacrifices will end and you will be able to reign by my side over a new world.

One of the Death Eaters guarding the entrance then knelt before him and pleaded:

My lord, my children are not arriving until tomorrow, I v...

Endoloris. Bellatrix creates. You will learn not to challenge the orders of our lord.

My dearest Bella, I appreciate your impulsiveness, but stop immediately.

But... Very well, master.

Voldemort approached the man who was now trembling in pain lying against the rough ground.

I understand the value of your sacrifice, but in the coming years, you will have plenty of time to make others. You will then be able to know the joy of raising them in the worship of Lord Voldemort. Unless you prefer to wait for them outside. He sneered before stepping onto the tarmac of the base.

Leave everything on the forecourt and go inside. We will start in a few hours. Ordered Voldemort.

All the men outside hurried to obey. Very quickly, only Voldemort and the 3 wizards who had accompanied him remained. Bellatrix stepped forward in turn, but with a gesture, the Dark Lord stopped her.

Bella, let's see. Someone has to stay outside to guard the entrance. We cannot risk being attacked during this critical moment.

But, my lord... Bella began to plead with him.

It is a heartbreak for me too, Bella. Every time I dreamed of this day, you were by my side. But we all have to make sacrifices. Know that I will never forget yours and I will ensure it is honored for dozens of generations after your death.

Very well, my master. I will do as you wish, she said with visible sadness.

Do not be sad. To lighten your sorrow, I have arranged for you to share your final moments with the rest of your dear family. Thus, your name will no longer be tarnished by the stain of their betrayal.

Then, without waiting for their response, he went back inside the reinforced concrete complex under the mountain, laughing heartily.

Belle then gave an order to the other two. Under Fred's astonished gaze, Bill Clinton's face began to melt and gradually transformed into that of a young woman barely older than him. Zooming in on her face with the multiplettes, he understood that she was probably under the imperium. Theodore then asked:

Nymphadora Blacks? What is she doing here?

Didn't you understand? It's a punishment against my mother. He wants her to die seeing what's left of her family disappear. Drago explained.

Didn't you also have an aunt? I mean another aunt? Nott asked.

Andromeda must have died protecting her daughter. Or You-Know-Who killed her in front of Nymphadora to break her. What do I know? replied Draco.

Your family stories are all well and good, but they don't tell us what they did? Fred intervened.

It's obvious. We'll free my family and cover your backs while you go in there to pursue your suicide mission. Malfoy announced in a matter-of-fact tone as he began to get up.

Fred grabbed his arm with authority.

Duck down, you idiot. And we're the ones going on a suicide mission?

My mother would never harm me. And I have a score to settle with Bellatrix.

Precisely, I saw him in action in combat. Believe me, he is not someone you can beat.

She's just a poor fool, retorted Draco.

Like He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. That doesn't stop me from killing anyone who dares to challenge him to a duel. Is that clear, Fred threatened.

Yes, chef. Shouted Ginny while making a parody of a military salute.

Sorry. I think I spent too much time with Percy. All I'm saying is that none of us can stand up to Bellatrix, we need a better plan.

That's because you haven't seen Terminanor in action. Suggested Justin, giving Justin a slap on the back.

End what? It doesn't matter. I don't want to dash your hopes, but Fred is right. Even my father admitted that she was better than him in a duel. Even attacking her together, we have no chance.

So that's it, the famous courage of the Weasleys. Those paragons of Gryffindor. Backing away from an old woman who spent half her life in Azkaban?

Half of McGonagall's job is trying to teach her students the difference between bravery and recklessness. Of course, with us, she completely failed, but that's no reason to do just anything. Fred replied.

What do you suggest, smart guy? Justin asked irritably.

Your blood may be too degenerate for you to dare to mingle with the still pure blood of the Blacks, but that's not the case with my mother. If she threatens me, she will make short work of that codfish. Malfoy replied.

In fact, it's not such a stupid plan. If we could also free Nymphadora, I'm sure we would get the upper hand on her before she could raise the alarm. Peter intervened.

And how do we approach it closely enough for that? Asked Blaise.

At that moment, to great surprise, Peter transformed into a rat. A rat that Ginny had known very well. She refrained from giving him a violent slap, remembering the number of times she had undressed in front of the animal.

oOoOoOo

After Fred ordered the Dursleys to stay back and they agreed on the signal to coordinate and communicate remotely, Peter approached the three witches as discreetly as possible while the teenagers crawled to the cover of the trees.

Peter managed to slip by unnoticed until a biting cold seized him. He then looked up at the sky and saw a hundred Dementors gathering around the entrance of the building, in front of a laughing Bellatrix who seemed unaffected by their effects. Apparently, You-Know-Who wasn't relying solely on the three witches to guard his hideout while they implemented his infamous secret plan.

After a few seconds, Narcissa summoned a Patronus which took the form of a dragon and Peter felt the cold diminish, but not his terror, as the creatures were now leaving Bellatrix to approach the place where he knew the teenagers were hiding. Peter forgot all caution and started to run. He realized his mistake when an excruciating pain seized him and forced him to transform back in front of a cruelly smiling Bellatrix.

A nasty rat running in the grass, I catch it by the tail. Dip it in oil, dip it in water, it will make a very warm traitor. Bellatrix hummed softly as she approached him with a threatening air.

Belatrix, let me pass. I must see the master, I need to warn him...

Tututu, it is too late, I fear. Your absence has finally made the master understand that you were not worthy to stand by his side and I will not give you the opportunity to change his mind.

I was delayed by our adversaries, but I risked everything to answer his call. Let me pass so I can explain to him. I have information that could change the course of the war.

Ha ha ha ha! You know nothing. Apparently, you are not that close to the master. This war no longer matters. Taunted Bellatrix.

What are you talking about, you crazy fool?

Endoloris! Shouted Bellatrix in response to his cheekiness.

Peter screamed in pain.

To reward you for bringing our master back among the living, I will grant you the favor of satisfying your curiosity before killing you. Our master has decided to use his great powers to create an immense cloud of his 'radiations' that will cover the earth for millennia. Nothing will survive it except the exceptional beings he himself has selected for their loyalty and the purity of their blood. They and their descendants will thus have the chance to know a life entirely devoted to the devotion towards our master until the surface becomes livable again and they can live a new golden age free from the defilement and degeneration of the old world. Avada...

Before she could finish the terrible incantation, Bellatrix had to turn around to invoke a shield to block a red spell rushing at her back. Peter transformed back to flee and saw that the teenagers had been forced out of their hiding place to defend themselves against the Dementors. While the best fighters (Fred and Nott) struggled to maintain their corporeal Patronuses against the hundred Dementors attacking them, the battle raged against a Nymphadora Tonks whose inner fight against You-Know-Who's Imperius was evident, as her movements were jerky and seemed like iron in a sea of molasses.

Despite everything, she clearly had the upper hand and was now focusing her attacks on the weakest of the group: young Ginny, who was dodging as best she could.How bad her attacks until she tripped over a root and collapsed to the ground. Peter began to urgently transform back, but it would soon be too late. Fred abandoned his post and his Patronus disappeared, causing the cold to reappear, but he too was too far away to intervene in time. Nymphadora finished her incantation and a dark spell rushed toward her, and Justin threw himself in front of Ginny to take the spell in her place and painfully collapsed to the ground. For 5 minutes, Justin felt his body without understanding to check that he had nothing, then understood upon seeing Draco's body panting beside him.

Justin leaned over him and with a wave of his wand made the blood-soaked clothes of the Slytherin disappear. Then he summoned bandages and various healing spells to try to stop the bleeding. In his haste, he neither noticed that the fighting had ceased, nor that he was now protected from the Dementors by a dragon-shaped Patronus. Nymphadora was rubbing her head, trying to recover from the possession that Peter had freed her from, while Bellatrix's body lay lifeless where Narcissa had left it when she had tried to get between her and her son in danger.

Stupid... mudblood, at least summon a shield before stupidly throwing yourself in front of the enemy. Drago murmured weakly.

For once in your life Malfoy shut your fucking mouth. Responded Justin, half-panicked, seeing the blood continue to leave Draco's body through every inch of his skin.

But Justin was brutally pushed away from his son by a Narcissa Malfoy also on the verge of hysteria, who began casting a series of spells that did not seem very, very white.

Mother. Said Draco, raising his hand to Narcissa's face.

Hush, my dragon.

I have failed. I have dishonored our family.

Then despite Narcissa's care, Draco's eyes closed. She then stood up, radiating anger and power, and without anyone being able to stop her, she grabbed Justin by the neck and lifted him until he was suffocated against a tree.

Explanation!? Why did my son sacrifice his life for that of a miserable mudblood? Narcissa screamed.

He owed me a life debt. Justin managed to murmur, despite the hand that was suffocating him, certain that Narcissa couldn't hear his response in the midst of the shouts and spells his friends were casting to try to free him. However, she proved him wrong by releasing him and bowing before him.

The Malfoys died honoring their debt and their name. It will not be said otherwise of the Blacks. You allowed me to see my son one last time. My debt is eternal. Alas, I fear that for us, eternity is but a short moment to pass. What can my house do to ease your final moments?

Oh. If we could talk about it again in 60 years, that would suit me. Justin replied with confusion.

Is it impertinence or ignorance? We only have a few hours left before the lord of darkness unleashes his ultimate cataclysm.

What are you talking about? asked Blaise incredulously.

She tells the truth. Said Tonks and Peter at the same time.

Peter, who had not fully understood what Bellatrix had told him, let Tonks explain in her still trembling voice.

Voldemort wants to trigger a nuclear war between the USA and the rest of the world. As soon as he manages to disable the American anti-missile defense systems, he will launch all American nuclear missiles against the rest of the world. And he has ensured that the Russian and Chinese counterattacks will encounter no obstacles. Almost all the missiles will explode and create a gigantic radioactive cloud that will make the surface uninhabitable for thousands of years.

What is an atomic bomb? Blaise asked timidly, but his remark was masked by Justin's cry, whose face had just turned considerably pale.

But this is madness!

I fear that the master is beyond madness. From a certain point of view, it is a matter of genius. Commented Narcissa.

No, but that's nonsense, why would you have helped him destroy the world? asked Justin.

He had assured me that our blood, with its unparalleled purity, was necessary for him to build his ideal world.

In front of the questioning gaze of her lay audience, she resolved to speak in a more rustic language:

He told me that Drago was inside the shelter. That it was there he had sent him.

In fact, he sent him to carry out... Peter began.

I understood the moment I saw my son fall at your side that the dark lord had perjured himself once more. Enough explanations, our time, alas, is precious to us. Narcissa interrupted.

Help us get in! We're going to try to stop him. Peter asked.

I understand your desire to make a last attempt, but I assure you that you do not want to perish at the hands of our master.

We will not perish. Well, maybe not. Fred conceded.

May I know what your plan consists of? asked Narcissa.

We don't have time. Are you going to help us or not? Ginny intervened, suspecting that if she knew their plan, this icy woman would never let them through.

A redhead and second-hand clothes. You must be a Weasley. Lower your wand, young lady, before I strongly remind you who is currently repelling the Dementors.

In response, the other teenagers raised their wands against Narcissa in turn.

Fine, I would yield to your demands. But only to honor my debt.

Narcissa turned around and led them to the entrance of the bunker. Fred sent red stars into the air to alert the Dursleys to join them (their arrival made Narcissa frown, but she refrained from commenting). Once they reached the imposing door, she cut her hand with a knife and placed a few drops of her blood on it before shouting a password in Latin, and the red barrier surrounding the door briefly appeared before disappearing. Then Tonks transformed again into Bill Clinton, placed her hand on a fingerprint reader, and finally entered a code into the computer. Once she finished, in a terrible clatter, the door finally opened.

Cross the door quickly before the alarm is raised. As soon as you have crossed the door, we will close it again.

After assuring a Tonks who absolutely wanted to come with them that in her condition she would be more useful outside pretending to be Bellatrix andattempting to convince the Death Eaters inside not to raise the alarm after the door opened, they entered the long black tunnel leading to an elevator that seemed to descend to the bowels of the earth. Just before the military elevator doors closed, Narcissa shouted to them:

In the unlikely event that you achieve your goals, know that I will owe you another eternal debt.

oOoOoOoOo

They had been wandering through the maze of corridors for an hour now, their faces masked by the Death Eater masks they had quickly summoned. To their great pleasure, no one seemed to pay them any attention. In these long concrete corridors decorated only by a few military signs, no one spoke, no one paid attention to their neighbor. The families wandering aimlessly kept their heads down and their eyes sad, seeking some comfort by huddling together. The atmosphere was gloomy, and it owed nothing to the austerity of the place. Their small group had no trouble slipping through, but they wondered if the luckiest ones were really those destined to survive for several generations in these places under the rule of a megalomaniac and sadistic psychopath.

At the beginning, they had tried to head towards the command center of the base by following the military maps regularly posted on the wall. But they only managed to get lost. The place had been magically transformed so that it no longer resembled the map directions at all. Former broom closets had been magically enlarged to hold several cathedrals, dead ends had become long access ways to rooms that were not supposed to exist. The more time passed, the more the fear of arriving too late to stop Armageddon became pressing. Only the certainty of being spotted kept them from running or asking for directions.

Finally, during a wandering that put their nerves to the test, they emerged into a vast hall whose false ceiling imitating the sky reminded them of the Great Hall of Hogwarts. Except that the sun had been replaced by a gigantic red eye that randomly fixed its gaze on one of the wizards present in the gigantic place where dozens of others were pouring, with the help of their wands, gigantic shovelfuls of earth black as night contained in a gigantic bin, onto the bare concrete floor. After a few minutes of wondering whether or not to attempt to cross the place, a Death Eater who must have been barely 20 years old addressed them.

What are you doing standing there? Get your wands out and help us. The master wants the first crops planted before tonight!

Peter then decided to take the risk of revealing himself and addressed the young Death Eater:

Poor fool, don't you recognize me? Of all of you, miserable creatures who abandoned him at the most critical moment, I am his favorite. How dare you give me orders?

Pardon, Mr. Pettigrow, please excuse my mistake, but we were expecting reinforcements, so I had thought...

Well, you think poorly. Your stupidity could cost you your life. You're lucky I'm in a hurry. Tell me immediately where I can find the lord of darkness. I have an urgent message to deliver to him. Ordered Peter.

Well, he is in the communications room, but I doubt he would appreciate being disturbed. A note informed us that he would launch his attack in 15 minutes. If I were you, I would wait until he is finished.

Thank you for your warning. Where is the communications room? I admit I still have trouble finding my way around. Peter asked more civilly.

The Death Eater showed them the direction to take and as soon as they were out of sight, they abandoned all caution and began to run with all their might.

After 10 minutes of a frantic run, they forced open a door marked with a large sign as the communications room, and in front of about ten men in Muggle military clothing who were busy at computers, they formed a circle around the Dursleys and drew their wands. But before they could ask any questions, an alarm went off and a cold voice interrupted them.

Who dares to disturb Lord Voldemort like this? From the shadow in the middle of the room, a child emerged and stared at them with a look of pure hatred.

Petunia Dursley rushed out of the circle, quickly followed by Vernon.

Harry, it's mom. We came...

Voldemort then recoiled as if he had been punched in the abdomen, but said, his face panting.

You came to kill me? I'm afraid it's too late for that. The missiles have already been launched.

No, to save you. Said Nott after removing his mask.

Following this, everyone lost interest in the milestones that remained motionless like disjointed puppets and removed their masks to fix their gaze on Harry, reflecting on that scene which now seemed so distant, yet had taken place yesterday in a peaceful forest in the south of France.

« Do you remember the prophecy?

Yes. They all answered in unison.

Before his death, Dumbledore insisted on telling me that love was the key. For months, while spying on he-who-must-not-be-named, I mulled over his last words and the exchange I had with him... And eventually, a completely crazy theory came to mind. But the more I thought about it, the more I told myself that it explained so many things. The reason why Dumbledore asked me to tell him in detail how you escaped from You-Know-Who. Why he hid you in the same place as the Dursleys….

Get to the point. Justin interrupted sharply.

The power that the lord ignores is love. By taking possession of him, he marked him as his equal, but thanks to his ability to love, Harry can defeat the dark lord and free himself from his grasp.

Love!? What, you want us to go hug You-Know-Who in the hope that suddenly, he'll discover he has a heart? Blaise said sarcastically.

Almost. I want you to do it with the Dursleys. I would have also wanted to include Cedric Diggory, but everything suggests that he and his family died during the Quidditch World Cup final. Peter replied with the utmost seriousness.

Are you sure you haven't received one or two too many doloris?

I received just enough doloris to be as crazy as Dumbledore. But I am convinced that it's our only chance, Peter stated.

Everyone looked at him silently with an incredulous expression that worried Peter. Obviously, he hadn't convinced them, and he didn't see how to defend his case. Dumbledore or James, they were leaders of men. He, hewas only good at hiding in their shadows. It was then, to everyone's surprise, that Théodore explained:

Petunia is convinced that Harry briefly regained control when they crossed paths. She was convinced that if she had had more time, she could have saved him.»

They then advanced silently towards Voldemort, who began to scream in pain.

Do not come near me, please! I am in so much pain!

My dear, we are here to help you. I know it's hard, but please, fight it.

Voldemort then let out a terrible cry of anger that resonated so loudly it triggered the alarm for a few seconds, and a wave of raw magic took their breath away and forced them to kneel, breaking eye contact. Voldemort seemed to regain his composure.

Death is still too gentle a fate for you. Did you really think a mere teenager could defeat the most powerful dark wizard of all time? He raised his wand to kill them, starting with that Nott who had challenged him so much, but Vernon threw himself in front of him in a gesture that terribly reminded him of his mother's sacrifice. No, his mother had never sacrificed herself for him. He lowered his wand, confused, and began to cry. After a few moments, he felt his mother's arms embrace him. Realizing he only had a few seconds of respite, he gently pushed her away and said:

Sorry mom. I love you.

Harry then raised his wand and said:

Plague Fire

In front of a horrified Petunia, flames whose heat exceeded what Peter had felt in the stadium appeared around Harry and engulfed him and the last Horcrux that stood proudly in his fingers. The heat was so intense that everyone in the room felt as if they were burning.

After a few minutes, the Feudeymon went out and his wand, which was no longer attached to anything, fell onto a pile of ashes, a curiously intact invisibility cloak, and a split ring.

The remaining soldiers rubbed their eyes as if they had just woken from a bad dream while Death Eaters began to invade the room in search of explanations. Everything had ended so abruptly that they barely dared to believe it and remained motionless, stunned by what had just happened and the conflicting emotions battling within them.

Finally, a soldier came to his senses and asked:

Sergeant, what do we do now?

The last orders were clear: eliminate the wizards. And you deactivate the missiles before they reach their target.

Everyone immediately snapped out of their stupor and a battle ensued between the soldiers armed with machine guns, the Death Eaters, and their group, which was being targeted by all sides. After a few exhausting minutes where it became clear they would not survive, Peter cast an explosive spell that caused a violent landslide, isolating the teenagers and the Dursleys from their opponents. Dobby would retrieve them in a day or two when he had regained his strength. Meanwhile, he cut off a second finger to fake his death and escape in his rat form. It was starting to become a bad habit, but his war was over. He would leave it to others to build the peace.

oOoOoOo

Author's note: For those who don't know, Cheyenne Mountain Colorado is a famous American location that appears in many series. In real life, it seems this base is nothing special, but in fiction, it is often the command center of American nuclear weapons or the place where they hide top secret programs.Editor's note: If you want a visual, try any episode of Stargate SG1. A series that I highly recommend!

Epilogue

The war was over. At least, that's what Nott, Justin, Blaise, Ginny, Fred, Petunia, and Vernon thought when, after an interminable wait, Dobby came to get them out of the unstable air pocket spared by the landslide where they had taken refuge.

However, they were the only ones to think so. Voldemort had learned from his first defeat, and this time, he had ensured that his power would not vanish with him. Despite his disappearance, the war in Europe continued for another two years. All over, the dark lord's supporters, convinced of their master's imminent return and fearing the revenge of their victims in case of defeat, continued the fight. Terrible famines ravaged Asia, causing a total of 500 million deaths on their own. In reaction to the misery, hatred, and lies he had sown around the globe, revolutions broke out with no result other than a return to square one. Useless wars, from which each of the belligerents emerged as losers, were declared, and diseases that everyone thought had disappeared reappeared.

When the dust settled, the world had become unrecognizable. Russia, which was despised by its neighbors because of the years of domination it had subjected them to and was in full disintegration when the war of darkness broke out, was now the world's leading power. United by a common enemy, endowed with unparalleled prestige and a vast industry that the war had allowed to revive, it stood as a beacon in the night against the rest of the devastated world.

The USA had entered a period of intense political turmoil following the discovery of their president's corpse and the loss of their entire nuclear arsenal (which had been deactivated in disasters over the Pacific after terrorist wizards attempted to launch them). Some refer to this period of several years as a cold civil war, marked by successive killings and destruction, before the inquisition and the army of God were definitively defeated.

In the rest of the world, borders had been completely redrawn and the losses remained incalculable (or rather, no one dared to calculate them yet).

However, for the first time in their history, the different communities (witches, magical creatures, and muggles) spoke to each other as equals, united by the goal of rebuilding a world they now knew they had to share. Everything was not rosy. Old hatreds persisted, and cohabitation sometimes proved difficult. But each time, the memory of those terrible years and the fear of their return forced them to make compromises until a new generation was born for whom peaceful coexistence was a given.

Oh and for the last time, Nott and Justin remained just friends. They lived a long and beautiful straight life, completely ignoring the meaning of the word Yaoi. Okay, on the day of victory, they kissed. But they were so drunk that they didn't remember it. Don't judge. They were 15 years old and they had just saved the world!

oOoOoOo

Author's note: That's the end.

Thanks to the stats, I know that a little over a hundred people read this story to the end. I thank you immensely for supporting me up to this point.However, I am curious to know how much you enjoyed it, so leave me a review. Is it the best fanfic in the entire universe or just the best fanfic of all time?

More seriously, if there are things you didn't like, I would also like to know, so I can correct myself. I promise if you criticize me, I won't come to your house in the middle of the night armed with a knife (I'll come in broad daylight, it's more polite).

Otherwise, as indicated on my profile, I have already started writing a sequel to this story. Not a volume 5, but a sequel. That is to say, a story with its own plot, stakes, and character arcs, which can be appreciated independently, but takes place in the same universe and features some of the same characters. The 4 volumes of Harry Dursley form a single, complete story with a beginning, middle, and a closed ending.

To keep you waiting, I will now publish an Animorph fanfic that I have already completely written. I'll see you in two weeks for the first chapter of: "My name is Thevenin".

If you like my work, I invite you to try reading it, even if you don't like Animorphs. First, because I tried to ensure that even someone who doesn't know Animorphs can understand and appreciate my story, but especially because I consider it a more successful story than Harry Dursley. At the same time, it's normal, because I wrote it after having benefited from everything I learned while writing this fanfic (and if you reread volume 1 of Harry Dursley, you'll see that my writing has changed a lot).

Author's note 2: I would like to thank my beta Miss-Gotthelf-Snape without whom this story would not have been quite the same (especially volume 4). In addition to correcting spelling mistakes, her encyclopedic knowledge of the HP universe allowed me to improve it. Thanks to her.

Editor's note: Please, I liked your story, it just needed a little push to bring it up, that's all. However, if you don't post the off-topic Voldemort in Paris, I'll find you to kill you with a paper napkin! Your readers have the right to enjoy it!

Off topic: Voldemort and Paris

As the epilogue is very short and because I'm a nice person, I'm offering you a bonus to thank you for enduring my ramblings for so long without ever complaining.No, it's not at all because I'm afraid ofPaper napkins (it's just a coincidence, that's all).

Initially, I had planned for the character ofTom Hunt (the police officer who discovers Harry in the cemetery at the end of volume 1) has a much more important role. I had planned for volume 1 to end with several chapters where we would see him escaping from the wizards pursuing him for 2 months and learning by trial and error how a Muggle can defend against a wizard.

And also, of course, chapters where I will develop the relationship between Tom Hunt and a Harry who would be a bundle of contradictory emotions (not thrilled about being taken by the policeman but also not eager to face his adoptive parents after Dudley died due to his presence at their home and the difficult mourning). Their relationship was supposed to go from conflictual to complicit by working and living together.

Then, he should haveReappearIn volume 4 where he would have used his skills and his connections with the Order of the Phoenix to become an important figure in the Muggle resistance. And I had also planned to write a few chapters on life under Voldemort's reign for Muggles and the relationships between Muggle and wizard resistance groups. But due to a lack of inspiration and motivation, I chose to abandon this aspect.

This is a humorous chapter excerpt happening just before the World Cup events that I wrote before deciding to remove Tom Hunt from the main story. After what happened with Theodore Nott, Voldemort wants to reduce the risk of having to face someone close to Harry. He therefore goes to Tom Hunt to warn him to leave the country before the war begins. Enjoy reading.

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Here is an international portkey to France. Say the name of the country's capital while holding the object and you will be transported there immediately. Declared Harry/Voldemort in front of Tom Hunt's family who watched, stunned, as this boy who had just broken down their door handed them a used soda can. Tom Hunt had never spoken to his wife about wizards. Anyway, she would never have believed him. Her husband said nothing and in shock, she exclaimed:

What Paris?

"Species of idiots" were the last words of the dark lord beforeto disappear with a pop and reappearAt the foot of the Eiffel Tower. In front of astonished tourists, like Neo in The Matrix, he took off, broke the sound barrier, and then headed towards England.

Above Bristol, a supersonic boom was heard and a few seconds later, an angry dark wizard burst into the family's living room, smashing through the wall.

You bunch of muggle idiots! You're lucky I can't skin you alive on the spot. Here, here's another portkey, you must not say the name of your destination before leaving or you'll be transported to Paris.

In front of the terrified family, the dark mage disappeared again and reappeared in front of the mass of tourists who had witnessed his flight. It turned out that these tourists were American evangelists attending a seminar in Paris. For them, it was clear that what had just happened was a divine miracle. The child was an angel descended to earth to bring the word of God. Perhaps even the reincarnation of Jesus! Upon his reappearance, they all prostrated themselves before him, shouting Hallelujah.

In all his fury, Voldemort initially paid no attention to the ordinary Muggles surrounding him and prepared to take off again. But one of the sect's followers, more enterprising than the others, clung to his ankle and began to address him with an incomprehensible prayer in Latin.

His first instinct was to kill the opportunist, but then he noticed the crowd of fanatics and revised his judgment. These lunatics could be very useful to him in the near future. He used his powers to rise in a bath of light and with a voice magically altered to sound divine, he improvised a sermon warning them that the end of the world was near and that the lord would soon mobilize them for the final battle. Then he disapparated, noting that he needed to send a Death Eater resembling Jesus to North America to prepare the next part of his plan. If he wanted to win despite the overwhelming numerical inferiority of his troops, he had to ensure he was always one step ahead of his opponents and that they remained divided.

A few hours later, in England, Voldemort landed again by smashing through the wooden boards that had been installed to cover the hole in the living room.

Take this fucking portkey and the first one who says the P word, I'll impale on the Eiffel Tower!

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A few weeks later in the throne room:

Monsignor, Umbridge survived our last assault and fled to France. She managed to gather what was left of the ministry around her and form a provisional government installed in Paris then she (...)

He was interrupted by his master yelling in his direction:

Endoloris!!!!

Master, what have I done? Pleaded the Death Eater pitifully, groaning in pain.

Nothing, I'm sorry. Continue your presentation.

The Death Eater was shocked by this response. Since his return, he had been more moody than ever and regularly subjected his servants to painful punishments for trivial reasons. But it was the first time he had apologized. Fearful, the Death Eater cut his presentation short and left the room as quickly as possible. Voldemort apologizing was the most frightening thing he had ever seen.e.