Harry and the others had to give up their search after an hour, as curfew was fast approaching. They decided to resume tomorrow, though Harry had been hoping for that familiar prickling sensation in his scar—like with the locket and cup—but no such luck. The Room of Requirement was simply too vast.
They hadn't left empty-handed, though. They found small treasures scattered among the junk—pouches of gold, loose gems, and even ancient tomes that looked like first editions. Harry made a mental note to come back and have a proper search. There could be something useful buried in here.
For the rest of the week, they searched as much as they could, but their efforts were constantly hindered by Dumbledore's watchdogs—Ron, Hermione, and Ginny.
Ginny, in particular, had been especially forward, her delusions growing worse by the day.
"It's been written by the Fates that we'll be together," she purred, stepping too close for comfort. "I'll be Lady Potter. We would be perfect together Harry."
She gave him a knowing smirk, one that made Harry's skin crawl.
His eyes narrowed. "I certainly wouldn't want to be tied to a tainted shrew like you for the rest of my life."
Ginny let out an ear-piercing shriek, but before she could spit something back, Hermione grabbed her arm and pulled her away.
Harry caught the beginnings of a frantic whisper.
"…but the co—"
Theo was instantly on guard, stepping up beside him. "They're up to something," he muttered.
"I know."
They exchanged a glance before turning on their heels, making their way back to the Room of Requirement.
Inside, the search continued. As they sifted through the piles of forgotten artifacts, they began sorting useful things into piles—books, wands, gold, and anything enchanted that might be of value.
As Harry shifted through a stack of tattered robes, he glanced over at Theo. "Are you really sure about leaving with us?" he asked, voice quiet.
Theo's head snapped up, eyes sharp. "I'd never regret leaving with you, Harry."
There was a weight to his words, something firm and unwavering. He stepped closer, his expression softening slightly. "In fact, I'm looking forward to it."
Harry felt a flutter of discomfort at the intense look Theo was giving him. He tried to play it off, raising a brow. "Didn't you once say you'd marry a pureblood woman to continue the Nott line?"
Theo snorted, stepping even closer. "Maybe I changed my mind."
His hand lifted slightly, as if he meant to touch Harry's face—
But before anything could happen, Blaise's voice rang out across the junk piles.
"Where the hell are you two?"
Harry jerked back, clearing his throat. "Here!" he called, stepping away. He tried to ignore the flash of disappointment on Theo's face.
He didn't know what to say about that.
When the group reunited, something shifted.
A sudden, sharp prickle ran up Harry's spine, making his head snap up.
"Stop," he ordered.
The others froze, eyes following his gaze as he focused on the sensation.
It was faint, but it was there—that same pull, that eerie whisper of foreign magic.
Harry inhaled deeply, his fingers twitching before he lifted a hand, summoning a current of air. With effortless control, he propelled himself upward, soaring above the junk piles until he zeroed in on the source. He let the currents float beneath his feet, holding him up in the air.
Sitting atop a tower of discarded objects was a… tiara?
Using his magic, he carefully lifted it off its perch and floated it downward to where the others were waiting.
Luna let out a soft gasp. "That's Rowena Ravenclaw's Diadem."
Harry sighed, carefully placing it into a protective pouch. "It's a shame it has to be destroyed."
Luna gave a wistful sigh. "It was once a symbol of wisdom, and now it's just a prison for darkness." She suddenly turned to Harry, "when are you going to teach me to use the air like that?"
Neville, trying to lighten the mood, smirked. "Well, I managed to bloom a flower to full the other day."
Blaise snorted, elbowing Theo. "Our fire magic is coming along quite nicely, thank you very much."
Theo smirked. "Better than yours, actually."
Harry rolled his eyes at their competitiveness. He had been teaching them elemental magic for years now, but it was slow going.
That didn't stop Blaise from bragging. "I'll have you know that I'm closest to finishing my Animagus transformation."
The group immediately perked up, and Theo groaned. "Oh, hell no. We're not letting you win this too."
Harry chuckled, shaking his head before calling for Tilly. "Take this back to the Keep with the others, please."
Tilly nodded, taking the pouch with care before popping away.
Harry exhaled, staring at the now-empty pedestal where the diadem had rested.
One more piece of Voldemort's soul was finally in his hands.
~
The May Wizengamot session was the last open meeting before the August recess, and the chamber was particularly full today. Harry sat in his usual seat, eyeing the room with suspicion. Something felt... off.
He could see members of the Dark Faction fidgeting, some shifting in their seats as if they couldn't sit still, while others had an air of triumph about them. The atmosphere had been uneasy all day, and as the session dragged on through petty disputes, Harry's wariness only grew.
"Lord Avery wishes to bring forth the issue of disputed land ownership in Northern Scotland," droned one of the clerks.
Chief Greengrass sighed heavily. "Again, Lord Avery? The land in question has belonged to House MacDougal for centuries. This was settled last summer."
"It was improperly settled," Avery sneered. "MacDougal never provided ancestral records proving ownership before the twelfth century."
Harry rolled his eyes, barely listening as the political bickering carried on. He kept glancing around, watching body language, noting who looked nervous and who seemed far too pleased with themselves.
Finally, as the session ended and the lords and ladies filed out, some members were rushing from the chamber with urgency. Harry exchanged a glance with Amelia who was walking next to him, who also noticed the unusual behaviour.
"Something's wrong," he murmured under his breath.
The two of them followed the crowd into the atrium, where people were gathering at the Apparition points or lining up at the Floo stations. But the moment Harry stepped inside, a chill ran down his spine.
Something was wrong.
Even the chatter of reporters, normally a constant hum, was dull. People shifted uneasily, whispering to each other, noticing the eerie silence in the atrium.
Harry's eyes darted around, scanning the edges of the large hall.
Clusters of wizards and witches were stationed at every exit.
Then he felt it.
A snap of magic that signified wards being raised.
Disapparition was now impossible.
His breath hitched.
"AMBUSH!" Harry shouted, his magic exploding outward, pushing innocent spectators out of the way just as a volley of stunners was unleashed from the clustered wixen.
Amelia reacted instantly, her wand flashing as she barked orders. "Aurors! Formation! Protect the civilians!"
Harry turned, addressing the panicking crowd. "Get your wands out! If you hesitate, they won't."
There was chaos—people screaming, running toward the aurors, who quickly herded them into a defensive formation. Rita Skeeter and her cameraman were among them, both looking pale and terrified.
Harry grabbed Augusta Longbottom's arm, pushing her toward the protected area. "Neville would have my head if anything happened to you."
Augusta huffed, gripping her wand tightly. "I can fight, you know."
Harry let out a short laugh, eyes still scanning for threats. "No doubt. But I'd rather you didn't have to."
Amelia stepped up beside him, wand drawn. "Harry, will you fight with me?"
He nodded, a dark smile crossing his lips. "It would be my honour."
Then, the attack began in earnest.
A dozen masked figures lunged forward, their wands already glowing.
Harry moved fluidly, dodging curses as though he could see them before they were cast. With a flick of his fingers, he sent out a silent Shield Charm, absorbing a curse before sending back a disarming wave of magic that flung three Death Eaters off their feet.
More Death Eaters Flooed and apparated in, filling the room, then he spotted Lucius Malfoy among the cluster of wizards.
His long blond hair, distinctive even behind his mask, shone under the atrium's golden light.
Harry snorted, his voice carrying through the hall. "Really, Malfoy? This is how you want to do this?"
Malfoy hesitated for a fraction of a second before firing a cutting curse—
Harry countered it with a wordless gust of air, twisting the spell harmlessly to the side before retaliating with a silent stunner, forcing Malfoy to roll out of the way.
To his left, Amelia duelled two Death Eaters at once, her precision cutting through their defences like a razor-sharp dagger. The Aurors held the line, keeping the civilians behind shields, but more and more Death Eaters were pouring in.
The floo flared again.
A mad, cackling laugh echoed across the hall.
Bellatrix Lestrange.
Harry gritted his teeth as she twirled in place, her wand lazily flicking a green curse at an auror, who barely dodged it.
She threw back her head and laughed, her dark curls flying wildly. "Oh, wittle baby Potter playing hero again! How sweet!"
Across the room, Augusta Longbottom stiffened at the sight of Bellatrix and the Lestrange brothers, her wrinkled hands tightening around her wand.
Then the floo roared to life one final time.
The entire atrium seemed to shrink as a figure stepped through, moving with an unnatural grace.
A cold, high voice cut through the air.
"Ah, Harry Potter, I am glad you are here to see my victory today."
The crowd gasped in terror as Voldemort stepped out of the emerald flames, his red eyes gleaming with malice.
Harry's mind screamed—
It's too early. They don't have all the pieces yet!
The atrium erupted into chaos.
Spells clashed midair, bursts of red, green, and blue lighting up the vast space like an unnatural storm. The floor trembled under the sheer force of magic being hurled in every direction.
Harry moved like liquid fire, ducking under a cutting hex before twisting to blast a Death Eater backward with a vicious cut of wind. His spells were silent, efficient, and every move was calculated to conserve energy while delivering the most devastating impact.
The Aurors held strong, their training under Amelia evident as they worked in coordinated units, covering each other's backs while systematically pushing back the enemy. Amelia herself was a whirlwind of deadly precision, felling two Death Eaters in quick succession.
Through the haze of battle, Harry saw Bellatrix Lestrange laughing madly, twirling away from hexes and curses as if it were a dance. Augusta Longbottom engaged her, but Harry could see the older woman starting to falter.
Harry moved instantly, throwing himself between them, deflecting a wicked bone-shattering curse from Bellatrix with a shield.
Bellatrix's eyes gleamed with excitement. "Oh, wittle Potter wants to play?"
"I'd rather see you bleed," Harry snarled.
The Lestrange brothers flanked her, moving in sync to cut off Harry's escape.
A brutal three-on-one duel erupted.
Rabastan lunged first, casting a blazing arc of fire, but Harry redirected it, letting the flames whip around him before hurling them back at Rodolphus, who barely managed to shield himself.
Bellatrix was already moving, her deadly accuracy forcing Harry to dodge rather than counter. She was fast.
But Harry was faster.
With a flick of his wrist, he sent a shockwave of concussive air, forcing Bellatrix back just as Rabastan attempted to curse him from behind.
Without hesitation, Harry dropped low, spun on his heel, grabbed his dagger from his boot and with a flick of his wrist, slashed Rabastan's throat in one clean, fluid motion.
Blood splattered across the floor, and the man gurgled, stumbling back as his hands flew to his severed artery. He could feel the crystal at his neck heat up as soon as he took his last breath.
Rodolphus roared in fury, launching a Cruciatus Curse—
Harry sidestepped, slamming his palm against Rodolphus' chest and sending a pulse of raw energy that hurled him twenty feet away, crashing into a pillar.
Bellatrix shrieked in rage.
And then, the room fell deathly silent.
A cold, high voice echoed through the atrium.
"Enough."
The Death Eaters hesitated.
Voldemort's presence was suffocating, his red eyes locked on Harry with something that looked like… intrigue.
"Impressive," the Dark Lord purred, stepping forward as his followers instinctively moved back. "You are… wasted among them, Harry."
Harry tensed.
Voldemort tilted his head, his lips curling. "Join me. You could stand by my side, rule as my consort… or refuse, I could always use a slave."
Harry let out a low chuckle, something dark and mocking. "You really think I'd choose either? I would rather die."
Voldemort's gaze narrowed.
Harry lifted his hands and, unleashed a howling storm.
A wall of raw wind and force blasted through the atrium, hurling Death Eaters across the marble floor, throwing some into walls, and knocking others unconscious.
The Aurors seized the opportunity, charging forward.
Harry turned back to Voldemort, his magic crackling in the air.
"You want a fight, Tom?" Harry smirked, stepping forward. "Or are you too scared to face me yourself?"
Voldemort's face twisted in fury. "Impudent child—"
A jet of green light shot toward Harry—
Harry whipped his hands up, summoning a slab of broken marble, using it to absorb the Killing Curse before sending it flying at Voldemort, who shattered it midair.
The fight began in earnest.
Voldemort's spells were brutal, using fire and curses with his wand. Harry countered with pure elemental force, every movement an extension of the world around him.
Fire and water clashed, creating billowing steam that filled the chamber.
Magic crackled as Voldemort struck with pure rage, summoning the shattered glass and sending it his way, but Harry redirected it through his outstretched hand, turning the attack back on its caster.
Voldemort laughed, his eyes gleaming. "I see now… the power I took from you! Since my rebirth, I have never felt stronger! Your blood binds me to magic itself! YOUR BLOOD RUNS THROUGH MY VEINS POTTER!"
He conjured a massive, writhing serpent of flame that coiled toward him.
Harry threw both hands forward, summoning every ounce of water from the fountains and pipes, unleashing a tidal wave that crashed down, smothering the cursed fire.
And then Harry went on the offensive.
The air whipped violently, hurling debris and sending Voldemort skidding backward.
They duelled in close combat, their movements a deadly dance of magic and physical strikes, apparating in flashes of light as they dodged, countered, and attacked.
Harry was winning, about to injure Voldemort just enough.
Until he was suddenly ripped backward, thrown across the floor by a blast of foreign magic.
He rolled to his feet, crouched low, his eyes snapping up to find Dumbledore standing there.
The old wizard stood firmly between him and Voldemort.
Amelia's voice was sharp with outrage. "What are you doing?! He was WINNING! You foolish man!"
Dumbledore's eyes twinkled sombrely. "We cannot afford such reckless aggression."
Harry's jaw clenched. "Then stay out of my way."
And just like that, the battle shifted.
A three-way duel seemed to erupt between Harry, Voldemort, and Dumbledore.
Flashes of magic and elemental fury filled the air.
But Harry's focus was shattered when he saw Sirius duelling Bellatrix.
A jet of green light hurtled toward him making Harry deflect it instinctively, but then—
Tonks tripped.
She crashed into Sirius.
Pushing him right into the path of Bellatrix's other spell. Sirius screamed, gashes opened across his body, blood spraying outward. He was gripping his head as if it was in more agony than the cuts on his body.
Harry's scream shattered the atrium as he saw Sirius fall.
"SIRIUS!"
Glass shattered all through the atrium, making everyone shield themselves from the shards that rained down on them.
And everything stopped.
The moment Voldemort laughed, Harry's rage snapped.
He threw everything he had forward—wind, fire, raw force—sending Death Eaters flying back like ragdolls, trying desperately to reach Sirius' side.
He could hear Voldemort's voice echoing through the atrium, filled with dark amusement.
"You may have won this fight, Harry… but you will lose something dear in return."
Bellatrix cackled madly, her form twisting into the green flames of the Floo network. More Death Eaters followed, disappearing into the fire, their retreat hasty, chaotic.
The moment the anti-Apparition wards fell, Voldemort vanished with a final parting sneer, leaving behind only his destruction.
The hall was eerily silent, save for the groans of the injured and the crackling of burnt debris.
Harry shoved past Dumbledore, ignoring the old wizard's attempt to grab him, and skidded to a stop beside Sirius.
The man was still, his body trembling as Augusta pressed her hands to his wounds, trying to staunch the blood.
His eyes fluttered, unfocused. His lips were pale.
"Harry…" Sirius whispered, his voice barely audible. "I'm sorry, pup. I wasn't fast enough."
Harry shook his head furiously, hands already coated in healing magic, pressing over the worst of the wounds. "No—shut up, Sirius! Save your strength! You're going to be okay. I'll make it okay—SOMEBODY GET ME A HEALER!"
Sirius tried to chuckle, but it came out as a wet, gurgling sound. Blood spurted from his lips, and Harry felt his stomach twist in horror.
"I'm sorry, Harry." Sirius struggled to lift a shaking hand, touching it to his cheek. "Live your life, Harry. For this old dog won't you—"
"NO!" Harry snarled, pressing harder, forcing magic into Sirius' body—
But it wasn't working.
He tried everything—diagnostics, healing intent, even his sheer will—but nothing was taking.
Sirius' heartbeat slowed.
His breaths weakened.
"No, no, no, no, no—"
Harry frantically reached into his pockets, fumbling, his mind racing. There had to be something—
"WHERE IS IT?!"
His fingers closed around cold metal.
A small medallion, covered in runes of preservation and stasis.
Harry yanked it out and slammed it against Sirius' chest, his other hand pressing down over his sternum. Desperation poured out of him, raw and aching.
"Please," he begged, burying his face against Sirius' unmoving chest. "Please work. Please. Don't take him. Not him too—"
A heartbeat.
Then another.
A blue glow ignited beneath Harry's hands, spreading outward.
The runes flared, pulsing bright against Sirius' skin, freezing the blood mid-drip, halting the slow collapse of his body.
Harry felt something snap into place, a steady, rhythmic thrum beneath his palm—
Sirius' heartbeat, weak but steady.
Harry let out a breathless laugh, tears slipping down his cheeks. It worked.
Augusta's hand settled on his shoulder, firm, grounding. Kingsley and Amelia stood at his back, watching with a mixture of relief and awe.
The stasis medallion worked.
The clicking of cameras pulled Harry from his trance.
He looked up to find the atrium swarming with reporters and Ministry officials, their faces a mixture of shock, fear, and awe.
The Minister stood near the wreckage, his eyes wide with disbelief.
"He's really back," he croaked, his voice trembling. "It's true. He's really back!"
A shout of outrage echoed across the hall. Dumbledore was trying to push his way toward Harry, but the crowd was shoving back.
"This wouldn't have happened if you hadn't interfered! He would have been dead!" someone yelled, an older wizard shaking his fist at the Headmaster.
Molly Weasley's shrieks of protest could be heard from somewhere, and Remus stood frozen, arms wrapped around a weeping Tonks.
Harry's eyes darkened.
He turned away from Remus' guilt-ridden expression, refusing to acknowledge it.
The Healers arrived, and Harry rose stiffly, explaining in calm, clipped tones that Sirius was in a magical stasis.
"It's experimental," Harry murmured. "But it's keeping him alive."
~
Harry sat beside Sirius' unmoving body, his fingers curled tightly around his godfather's limp hand.
Amelia's Aurors stood guard outside, refusing to let anyone in.
Not even Dumbledore.
Harry had heard the old man trying to guilt his way past the door, but the guards weren't having it. Even Molly Weasley's wails were ignored.
A soft knock made him turn and Augusta stepped inside, followed by Neville and Luna.
"I thought you might need your friends," Augusta murmured, her stern expression softened with concern.
Harry's lips trembled. "Thank you."
Luna rushed forward, hugging him tightly, her tears silent but warm.
Neville didn't say a word—he simply pulled Harry into a firm embrace, his grip tight, grounding.
"Thank you," Neville whispered. "For protecting Gran."
Harry swallowed thickly. "I—"
"I'm sorry," Neville added, his voice choked. "About Sirius."
Harry inhaled sharply, pulling away.
"Sirius isn't dead," he said firmly.
Neville blinked. "What happened?"
Harry's eyes darkened. "Bellatrix used an obscure curse. The wounds themselves can be healed with time, but… there's something on his mind. Something we don't understand yet."
Luna's fingers tightened around his. "He's going to have a long sleep."
She closed her eyes for a moment, her voice soft. "And when he wakes up… everything will have changed."
Neville exhaled, running a hand through his hair. "We'll figure it out, Harry."
A heavy silence settled between them.
Neville glanced at the door. "Where's Remus?"
Harry let out a cold laugh. "Comforting Tonks."
Neville's brows furrowed.
"She pushed him into the spell, Neville, it might have been an accident, but to trip in a situation like she did-" Harry said quietly, his fingers curling into fists. "And Remus, he just stood there. Looking sad."
His jaw tightened. "Didn't even try to help him. Didn't even come to check on him."
Harry's voice dropped to a murmur, filled with resentment.
"I won't forget it."
~ Dumbledore – Grimmauld Place ~
Dumbledore sat at the head of the long, polished table in Grimmauld Place, his fingers steepled together as he listened to the murmurs of the gathered Order members. The atmosphere in the room was heavy, laden with a mixture of grief, anger, and something else—something that made his lips tighten ever so slightly. Awe. He had heard the whispers even before stepping foot inside, and now he could see it in their eyes. They were awed by Harry.
That would not do.
Daedalus cleared his throat, shifting uncomfortably in his chair as the weight of the gathered eyes pressed upon him. "I suppose I'll start from the beginning," he said, his voice hoarse. "Harry and Madame Bones were suspicious from the moment we left the chamber. The moment we stepped into the Atrium, Harry shouted 'Ambush!' and reacted before any of us even registered what was happening. He… he saved dozens of people in an instant, pushing them out of the way with his magic." Diggle shook his head, still in awe. "I have never seen magic like that before. Wandless, effortless—he manipulated the very air around us."
Dumbledore's fingers twitched against his beard, his expression remaining carefully neutral, though inside, cold possessiveness curled within him. So, Harry had already found the Keep. That much was clear, how else would he gain this power. And worse, he had learned to wield its knowledge in ways Dumbledore had not foreseen.
"From there, everything was chaos," Diggle continued. "Madame Bones ordered her Aurors into formation while Harry took charge of the civilians. He—he was instructing people, commanding them like an experienced general. Even the Aurors followed his lead! He told them to get their wands out, that Death Eaters wouldn't hesitate, so neither should they. He… he was magnificent."
Dumbledore clenched his jaw at the clear admiration in Diggle's voice, and from the murmurs of agreement around the table, it was evident he wasn't the only one who felt that way.
"What happened next?" Moody asked, his deep voice cutting through the noise.
"The Death Eaters attacked in full force," Diggle said, shaking his head. "More than fifteen of them, then more pouring through the Floo. Malfoy was there, unmasked by then. Bellatrix came next, along with the Lestrange brothers. Harry engaged all three of them at once protecting Augusta Longbottom."
"Against all three?" Moody grunted, his magical eye whirling.
"Yes," Diggle said, swallowing hard. "And he won."
A sharp intake of breath went through the room. Even Dumbledore's grip on his wand tightened beneath the table. He already knew this, of course, but hearing it spoken so plainly in front of his Order, knowing the respect it would garner Harry—he loathed it.
Bill exhaled. "How?"
"He fought like nothing I've ever seen," Diggle said, eyes shining with a mixture of fear and admiration. "Spells, elemental magic, wandless magic—he never wasted a movement. It was… elegant. Lethal. When he realised he couldn't subdue them, he took a dagger from his boot and slit Rabastan Lestrange's throat."
"What a good lad," Moody said approvingly, lifting his flask in salute.
Molly Weasley let out a scandalised gasp. "Alastor, he's just a boy!"
"A boy who killed in battle, Molly," Kingsley said grimly. "A boy who duelled You-Know-Who himself."
"He duelled the Dark Lord?" Arthur Weasley asked, his face pale. He hadn't joined the fight, still not fully able from the snake venom.
Diggle nodded, looking uncomfortable. "Yes. And he held his own. If you ask me… he was winning."
Dumbledore's grip tightened on his beard. His heartbeat thundered in his ears, but he kept his voice calm when he spoke. "And yet, Voldemort still lives."
Diggle hesitated. "Well… that's because you intervened, Albus."
A heavy silence fell over the room.
Dumbledore felt the shift, the weight of eyes turning toward him with quiet accusation. Even Minerva, who had always been his most loyal supporter, was frowning.
"Why didn't you let Harry finish him off?" Emmeline Vance asked, her tone sharp with suspicion.
Molly bristled. "Don't question the Headmaster. I'm sure he had his reasons."
Dumbledore said smoothly, "Harry does not yet understand the depths of Voldemort's immortality. Even if he had struck him down, it would have been in vain. There are greater forces at play. I am working on a way to ensure Voldemort's true demise."
"But you let him escape!" Kingsley said sharply. "Harry could have at least injured him. He could have weakened him enough to force a retreat without casualties and we could have taken the Dark Lord into custody."
Dumbledore let out a heavy sigh, feigning deep sorrow. "I did what I believed was best. I did not want young Harry to carry the weight of taking a life so soon."
Kingsley snorted. "Tell that to Rabastan Lestrange."
There were several murmurs of agreement.
A loud sniffle from the corner drew their attention to Tonks, who was curled into herself, staring at the table with red-rimmed eyes. Remus had a protective arm around her.
Kingsly turned fully to Tonks, his voice carrying the weight of command. "I'm disappointed. I saw what happened before Sirius got hit by that spell. I told Moody you weren't ready to advance to full Auror. You should have been kept as a trainee until you fixed your clumsiness. If you didn't prioritise hiding your original looks, you wouldn't have tripped and pushed Sirius into Bellatrix's curse."
Tonks flinched as though slapped. "It was a mistake," she whispered, her voice trembling.
"A mistake that nearly cost Sirius his life," Kingsley shot back. "You shouldn't have been on the front lines."
Remus snapped, "That's enough. She didn't mean for it to happen."
Bill turned a critical eye on Remus. "Then answer this, Remus. Why weren't you at Sirius' side?"
Remus opened his mouth, but no words came out. His jaw clenched before he finally muttered, "Mungo's wouldn't allow a werewolf to enter."
Bill snorted. "Bullshit. You could've fought for him. You could've been there. But you weren't."
Dumbledore, pleased that the attention had shifted away from him, raised a hand for silence. "Enough. This infighting will not help us. We need to focus on the future."
There was a murmur of agreement, though the tension in the room remained palpable.
"What do we do now?" Hestia asked.
Dumbledore forced a kindly smile. "Regardless of what happened, what matters now is what we do next. Harry is isolated. He is vulnerable. We must bring him back into the fold."
"With all due respect, Headmaster," Kingsley said, voice tight, "I don't think he needs our protection. Sounds to me like we need him more than he needs us."
Dumbledore forced down his irritation and simply nodded. "Perhaps. But he is young. Impressionable. If left to his own devices, he may stray down a path he cannot return from."
He saw the flickers of unease among them. He had planted the seed. Now he would let it grow.
As they continued their discussion, Dumbledore kept his gaze distant, thoughtful. Harry was growing too powerful. He needed to be reined in. Controlled before it was too late.
Soon, he would present Harry with the contract, and he would have to comply with its contents, everything would be turned over to his spouse. Harry would be bound unable to do anything, other than watch all his independence disappear. He just needs Miss Weasley to stop being so rash and loose lipped until then, she could ruin everything.
He would be exactly where he belonged.
In Dumbledore's golden cage once more.
~
Harry sat stiffly beside Sirius' bed, exhaustion pulling at his limbs, but he refused to leave. His godfather's chest rose and fell in slow, even movements, the glow of the stasis medallion still faintly pulsing against his skin. It had been nearly a full day since the battle in the Ministry, and Harry had barely moved from this spot. He had healed cuts and bruises, warded off reporters, and ignored the growing unease festering in his chest.
A gentle knock sounded at the door, and a healer entered. "Lord Potter-Black, you need to eat something." She set a tray down on the small table by the window before turning her attention back to Sirius. "No changes?"
Harry shook his head. "Nothing. The stasis is holding, but I need to know more about the curse Bellatrix used. If you can give me symptoms or effects, I'll search the Black library. If it's family magic, there has to be something there."
The healer sighed, crossing her arms. "That may be the best course of action. From what we've observed, it's acting similarly to a nightmare curse, but with additional layers. It's trapping him in his own mind, repeatedly activating his nervous system—like short bursts of the Cruciatus." She paused, giving Harry a grave look. "If he wasn't in stasis, his brain would have collapsed. His body would have broken under the strain."
Harry swallowed hard, his fists clenching on his lap. "I won't let that happen."
The healer gave him a small, respectful nod. "Your innovation saved his life. If you do manage to find a counter-curse, we can begin preparing for his recovery."
A familiar presence entered the room then, and Harry turned to see Neville step inside, holding a copy of the day's Prophet. His friend gave him a small smile before setting the paper down beside the untouched tray. "Figured you'd want to see what's being said."
Harry sighed, already spotting the bold headline across the front page: Lord Potter-Black Saves the Day! Fudge and Dumbledore Useless!
Neville chuckled at Harry's unimpressed expression. "Surprisingly accurate, considering it's Skeeter."
Harry rolled his eyes. "She's got a talent for writing absolute garbage. Even if it's true this time."
Neville sat beside him, flipping through the paper. "She goes into detail about everything. Says you were holding your own against You-Know-Who, and that Dumbledore interfered just as you were about to take him down." He shook his head. "People are pissed at him, Harry. Fudge is scrambling, and the public is actually rallying behind Amelia Bones instead."
Harry huffed a humourless laugh. "Well, that's one good thing to come from this."
Neville shifted beside him, crossing his arms. "You know, if you ever need anything, just say the word."
Harry offered him a small, grateful smile. "Thanks, Nev."
As Neville sat back down, the two of them sat in silence, watching over Sirius, waiting for the moment they could finally wake him up.
~
Harry sat in the nearly empty classroom, the final runes exam laid out before him. His quill scratched against the parchment as he finished the last sequence, double-checking his work. Professor Babbling gave him a nod as he handed in his paper, and he turned to the small group of examiners waiting to assess his stasis project. He explained the mechanics behind it, how the runic array activated when infused with magic, and how it had been successfully tested in real-world application—though he left out the life-or-death nature of its first use. When the panel of examiners nodded in approval, he felt a weight lift off his shoulders.
Leaving the exam hall, Harry exhaled deeply, only to be immediately swarmed by students. Since returning from the Ministry, he had barely been able to breathe without someone staring, whispering, or outright demanding answers. The Great Hall had been unbearable during meals, the hushed conversations and stolen glances following him everywhere. Theo and Blaise had taken it upon themselves to act as his personal barriers, pushing people away when they got too close. Luna held onto his hand, a grounding presence, while Neville glared at anyone foolish enough to try approaching.
"Is it true you duelled You-Know-Who?" a fourth-year Ravenclaw asked, eyes wide with awe.
Harry ignored him, pressing forward.
"Did you really take on three Death Eaters at once?" another voice piped up.
Blaise sighed dramatically. "What part of 'move along' do you lot not understand?"
"We should start charging," Theo muttered as he pushed a particularly eager Gryffindor away. "Five galleons per question."
Harry's patience was wearing thin, and it didn't help when he entered the Great Hall for what he hoped would be a quick meal before leaving. Dumbledore stood at the head table, speaking with his usual grandfatherly tone, though Harry could see the way his eyes tracked him through the crowd.
"These are dark times," the Headmaster said gravely. "We have lost much, and we must remain strong. There may be those among us who believe they can stand alone, but unity is our greatest strength." His eyes locked onto Harry as he continued, "Now the pain we feel at this dreadful loss reminds me, and reminds us, that though we may come from different houses, our hearts beat as one. As we grieve for what is lost—present and future—we must also prepare for what is to come."
Harry's fist clenched under the table. 'Present and future'? Was he implying—?
Luna squeezed his hand before whispering, "He's setting the stage."
Harry exhaled sharply, shaking his head. He refused to play Dumbledore's game. Instead once the feast was finished, he walked towards Flitwick and asked, "Professor, would you mind accompanying me to the Headmaster's office? I need to formally declare my leave."
Flitwick gave a sharp nod, always quick to support his students. "Of course, Mr. Potter-Black. It is well within your rights."
Dumbledore was already waiting when they arrived, as if he had expected Harry's visit. "Ah, Harry, my boy. There are things we must discuss—matters of great importance. With recent events, I believe it is time for you to take your place within the Order."
"No," Harry interrupted, his voice firm.
Dumbledore's face flickered with something dark before he sighed as if disappointed. "Harry, surely you understand the importance of—"
"I understand that I have a family emergency, and as per the Hogwarts handbook, I am entitled to leave early," Harry stated plainly. "I have finished all my exams. There is no reason for me to stay."
Dumbledore opened his mouth again, but Flitwick stepped forward, his expression neutral but his voice firm. "The Hogwarts handbook explicitly allows a student to leave early in cases of family emergencies. Harry is an adult, and as far as I see it, there is no regulation being broken here."
Dumbledore's lips pressed into a thin line. "If that is truly your decision, then I hope you will reconsider your isolation, my boy. I will remind you, we may come from different paths, but our hearts—"
"No," Harry interrupted, his voice cutting. "Our hearts were never one."
~
Harry had barely left Sirius' bedside in the past week. His meals were brought to him by Tilly, but he hardly ate, only taking a few bites before returning to the stack of Black tomes he had asked her to bring from the Black Library. The hospital room was dim, the only light coming from the enchanted candles hovering in the corners, and the occasional soft glow from the runes on Sirius' stasis medallion.
His friends wrote to him often, but he could only bring himself to reply briefly in his journal, just enough to reassure them that he was holding up. But in truth, he was exhausted. His eyes burned from lack of sleep, his mind numb from reading through centuries of dark curses and hexes that all led to dead ends.
The healers had all but given up. They had come to him that morning, saying that as long as the stasis was in place, there was nothing more they could do for Sirius in the hospital. He could be cared for at home just as easily, monitored with the same level of attention. Harry had nodded, barely listening as they explained how to arrange for a transport portkey. He had already decided Sirius would be taken to the cove. Grimbok told him that Tazgira was waiting for him to call on her, that she might be able to determine what kind of curse had been used. He had to hope that she could.
The portkey was arranged, a smooth, polished stone with embedded runes set specifically for patient transport. With the utmost care, Harry levitated Sirius' motionless form from the hospital bed, ensuring that the magic supporting him was steady before activating the portkey.
They landed gently near the cottage, the air thick with the comforting scent of the sea and damp earth. It was quieter than usual, but only for a moment. A deep, inquisitive rumble echoed before the familiar sound of wings beating against the wind reached his ears.
The hatchlings arrived first, bounding close in a flurry of excited chirps and warbles.
"Mother!" Altair was the first to press close, his massive head butting gently against Harry's shoulder. His bright, milky eyes flickered towards the floating Sirius. "Why is the smelly dog sleeping?"
Harry's throat tightened. He placed a hand on Altair's snout, grounding himself. "He was hurt, love. He won't wake up until we can fix it."
Altair tilted his head, his nostrils flaring as he sniffed at Sirius. "Mother can fix anything. Why not this?"
Harry sucked in a shaky breath. "Because I don't know how yet."
Nox, ever playful, let out an indignant chirp. "Then Mother will learn! And then the smelly dog will be happy again." She flopped onto her back dramatically, wings half-spread against the floor as if to say the problem was solved.
Lyra's hatchlings, ever the excitable little ones, hopped closer, chirping amongst themselves. "Grandmother shouldn't be sad!" one of the females piped up, nudging at Harry's side. "Grandmother should be happy!"
Harry let out a small, breathless laugh, remembering how Sirius had spent an entire afternoon convincing them all that Lyra was his hatchling, and by extension, they were his grandchildren. Lyra had found it amusing, allowing it without question, and now, her little ones had fully embraced the idea.
He reached out, stroking each of their snouts, his voice softer now. "I'll put your smelly dogfather to bed, and I'll find a way to help him. You don't have to worry."Lyra, who had been watching silently from the entrance, finally stepped forward. Her molten gold eyes locked onto his, deep and knowing.
"You will fix him," she said with absolute certainty. "Fire Mother always protects her nest."
Harry swallowed past the lump in his throat and nodded. "I will."
~
It had been a month since Harry and Sirius had arrived at the cottage, and still, there was no breakthrough in finding the curse that Bellatrix had used. Tazgira had searched every dark text she could find, but nothing matched. She visited often, bringing her sons with her, claiming she didn't want Harry to isolate himself. They would butt their foreheads to his as a sign of familial affection, making him smile. The healing lessons continued as planned, though they now took place in the cove rather than her home.
Introducing the goblin children to the dragons had been… an event.
The boys had never been to a beach before, and between their excited shrieks and their fearless attempts to climb onto Nox and Altair, the entire day had been pure chaos. Harry had barely been able to stop them from trying to "ride the big fish" (which turned out to be a particularly grumpy shark that had swum too close to shore). He spent much of his time watching them play, a small but genuine smile on his face as he leaned back on the sand beside Tazgira.
"You look tired," she remarked, watching as he absentmindedly toyed with the pendant around his neck.
Harry sighed. "Haven't been sleeping well."
She hummed knowingly. "Still no leads on the curse?"
Harry shook his head, rubbing his face. "Nothing. If it was an established curse, I would have found it by now. I'm starting to think Bellatrix created it herself."
Tazgira clicked her tongue in thought. "It wouldn't be unheard of. She's powerful, insane, and creative enough to weave her own spells. You'll find a way, though. You always do."
He appreciated the confidence, but it didn't ease the pressure weighing on his shoulders. He wouldn't—couldn't—fail Sirius.
Before he could respond, Tilly popped into existence next to him, holding out a letter.
"Master Harry, you got another owl from the wolf-man."
Harry frowned, taking the letter and opening it. It was from Remus again—his third in a week. The message was the same as before.
Harry, please. I need to see him. I need to see you.
He had ignored the first two letters, but now… maybe it was time.
Finally, he sighed and summoned parchment and a quill.
I will meet you in three days. I'll come to you.
He sent the letter off, already dreading the conversation to come.
~
Harry apparated into a secluded alley where Remus had been waiting. Before the man could speak, Harry grabbed his arm and side-along apparated them directly into the cottage.
The moment they landed, Harry stepped back, watching Remus take in his surroundings. The werewolf looked around warily, his eyes scanning the warm but unfamiliar room.
"Where are we?" Remus asked cautiously.
Harry didn't answer. "You wanted to see him," he said instead, leading him to Sirius' room.
The sight of Sirius' still body hit Remus like a punch to the gut. His breath hitched, and within seconds, he was at his bedside, gripping his hand as if his sheer presence would wake him up.
"Oh, Merlin," Remus whispered. "Sirius…" His voice cracked, and then he was sobbing, tears dripping onto Sirius' pale fingers.
Harry leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, his expression unreadable. "You stayed away," he said flatly after a long silence.
Remus flinched, but he didn't look away from Sirius.
"I—" He swallowed thickly. "I was in shock, Harry. And Tonks was distraught. I didn't know what to do—"
"That's not an excuse," Harry interrupted coldly.
Remus finally turned to face him, his face lined with guilt and exhaustion. "Werewolves aren't allowed in St. Mungo's. I wouldn't have been able to see him anyway."
Harry narrowed his eyes. "That's interesting," he mused. "Because Charlie went to visit Sirius two days after the attack and said he saw a werewolf in the long-term care ward, getting treatment from a healer."
Remus visibly stiffened.
"Try again," Harry said, voice sharper now. "Tell me why you really stayed away."
Remus looked away, guilt flashing across his face. "Dumbledore said…" He hesitated before sighing. "He said you wouldn't want to see me. That you blamed me."
Harry's magic flared, the air in the room crackling with tension. "And you believed him?"
Remus looked down, shame washing over him.
Harry took a step closer. "Do you know what I saw, Remus? I saw you comforting Tonks after she pushed Sirius into that curse and instead of going to him." His voice was laced with bitter disappointment. "I saw you just watch while I fought to save him."
"I was in shock!" Remus said weakly.
Harry scoffed, his expression hard. "Yeah? Well, I didn't have the luxury of freezing, did I?"
Silence fell between them.
After a long pause, Remus swallowed. "When… When can I see him again?"
Harry's gaze was piercing. "In a week."
Remus nodded hesitantly, but Harry could see the hurt in his eyes. He didn't care.
"You won't be able to come without me," Harry said. "I'll come and get you."
Remus flinched but nodded.
And with that, Harry apparated him away.
~
They had celebrated Neville's birthday the day before, keeping things small and quiet. Now, it was Harry's turn, but the atmosphere was subdued.
No one mentioned Sirius, but he lingered in every unspoken word.
They sat outside by the fire, sharing drinks and quiet stories, but Harry could feel the tension in the air. Midnight was approaching, and there was a strange pull in his magic that he couldn't quite explain.
Then, the moment the clock struck twelve—
Pain.
A sharp, searing ache bloomed in his core, spreading through his entire body. It started as a dull cramp but grew worse, twisting inside him like wildfire.
Harry gasped, doubling over and clutching his stomach as his vision blurred.
"Harry!" Neville shouted, catching him before he collapsed completely.
He could hear them panicking around him, voices overlapping in frantic worry, but all he could focus on was the unbearable burning sensation inside him. His magic was thrumming wildly, pulsing through his veins with such intensity that it was almost suffocating.
Through the chaos, one voice cut through clearly.
"It's okay, Harry," Luna whispered, her voice calm and unwavering. "It's okay. Just let it pass."
And then darkness.
When Harry finally opened his eyes, he was met with the sight of Tazgira standing over him, arms crossed.
"You scared your friends half to death, you know," she said, her tone exasperated.
Harry groaned, trying to sit up, only for his head to spin. "What… the hell was that?"
Tazgira hummed. "Nothing to worry about."
Harry shot her a glare. "Yeah, because blacking out and feeling like my insides were being rearranged is totally normal."
Tazgira smirked. "Well, in this case, it actually is. That's exactly what happened."
Harry blinked at her, confused.
She sighed. "Your inheritance, Harrison. The final one. Your gifts from magic have finally settled into its full strength."
His stomach twisted. "And what does that mean?"
Tazgira's lips curled into a sharp grin. "It means that you should be very careful with who you're being intimate with from now on."
"What?" he muttered the look on his face utterly confused.
Harry was still blinking in disbelief when the door burst open, and Luna, Theo, Neville, and Blaise rushed in, their faces tight with worry.
"Harry! Are you alright?" Neville asked, skidding to a stop next to the bed, eyes scanning him for any visible injuries.
Luna was already launching herself at him, pressing her hands to his face as if checking to see if he was real. "You scared us," she murmured.
Theo and Blaise hovered by the doorway, their expressions wary.
Harry groaned and leaned back against the pillow, still rattled. "I'm fine," he muttered. Then he turned back to Tazgira, still frowning at her earlier words.
"What the hell did you mean by I need to be careful who I'm being intimate with?" he demanded.
"Are you sure you want others to hear this? You trust them with your life?" She asks, and Harry nods.
Tazgira smirked, her sharp eyes gleaming with amusement.
"Exactly what I said," she replied, crossing her arms. "You've undergone a physical change with this inheritance, which means—"
She paused dramatically before dropping the bombshell.
"—you now have a womb."
Dead silence.
Harry's brain short-circuited.
"Excuse me?" he croaked, staring at her in pure, unfiltered disbelief.
Tazgira arched a brow. "You heard me."
"That's not possible," Harry sputtered. "I'm a man."
Tazgira gave him a pointedly unimpressed look. "And?"
Harry gaped at her, still trying to form words.
Blaise made a strangled noise in the back of his throat. Neville had gone red. Theo… Theo looked pale.
Luna, however, let out an excited squeal and promptly threw her arms around Harry, squeezing him tightly. "Oh! I knew it! I wasn't sure if I was dreaming about you having children or if it was just blood adoption but it's real! Oh, Harry, I'm so, so happy for you!"
Harry was not happy.
His brain was still struggling to process what was happening.
Blaise, apparently, was in the same boat. He let out a nervous laugh, holding up his hands in surrender when Harry turned his incredulous gaze on him. "Look, don't be mad, but—"
"But?" Harry interrupted, voice dangerously low.
Blaise gulped. "We… uh… might have forgotten to tell you that male bearers exist back when we were talking about marriage and blood adoption?"
Harry's eye twitched. "You forgot?"
Neville, looking like he very much wanted to be anywhere else, nodded quickly. "To be fair, there hasn't been a bearer in Britain for over a hundred years!"
Theo, who had been unnervingly silent, suddenly shook his head, still staring at Harry as if seeing him for the first time.
"This… This changes everything," he muttered, voice tight.
Harry narrowed his eyes. "Oh, now you're talking."
Theo ignored him, still looking like he was fighting off a panic attack.
Tazgira sighed and rubbed her temples. "It's a rare inheritance, but it's not unheard of. It's just that no one announces when they come into it anymore."
Harry frowned. "Why?"
At this, her expression darkened. "Because the last known bearer in Britain was hunted."
The room went deathly silent again.
Tazgira's voice was quiet but firm as she continued. "Over a hundred years ago, a young heir awakened as a bearer. It was meant to be a blessing—bearers were highly sought after for courtship. A bearer's child is always magical and often inherits at least one gift from their parents. But instead of being honoured, this man was fought over. Especially with the infant birth rates steadily declining over the years."
Harry's stomach twisted, the dread settling like a heavy stone in his gut.
Tazgira's lips curled in disgust. "Certain Lords attempted to pass a law forcing him to marry within a year, trying to claim his womb for their gain. When they failed to get enough votes, they sent their sons after him instead. He was brutalised so badly that he chose death rather than bear any of their children."
Luna gasped, hands flying to her mouth.
Neville and Blaise looked horrified.
Harry felt sick.
"They tried to wipe his name from history," Tazgira continued bitterly. "The heirs who assaulted him were never arrested, their crimes buried by their families. Since then, bearers—even those abroad—keep their status secret until they marry, and even then, some never tell anyone at all. Others live celibate lives, or they marry women to avoid being hunted, even though no child would come of it."
The dread in Harry's stomach deepened. His hand unconsciously rested against the lingering ache in his abdomen.
Theo, who had been silent for too long, suddenly spoke up, his voice hard and determined.
"No one can ever know," he said sharply.
Harry looked at him, startled. "Theo—"
"No one can ever know, Harry," Theo repeated, stepping closer, his blue eyes blazing. "Not the public. Not the Ministry. Not even your allies. If the Dark Lord ever found out…"
They all flinched at the thought.
"If he knew, he'd—" Neville cut himself off, swallowing hard. "He'd try to take you."
Harry's blood ran cold.
The very idea of Voldemort knowing… of him using Harry's own body against him…
He felt sick.
Luna suddenly shuddered violently, her eyes glazing over in that way they did when she had a sudden vision.
"The Phoenix must never know either," she whispered, looking frantic. "Never."
Dumbledore.
Harry's heart pounded in his chest.
Of course.
If Voldemort would see him as a weapon, then Dumbledore would see him as a pawn.
A broodmare for the Greater Good.
Tazgira nodded grimly. "She's right. No one can know."
Harry exhaled slowly, pressing a hand to his forehead. "This is insane."
Theo was still staring at him intensely, his expression unreadable but slightly excited. Blaise was still slightly pale but was recovering, and Neville looked like he was barely holding back the urge to punch something.
Luna, however, just smiled and squeezed Harry's hand.
"You'll be okay," she whispered.
Harry let out a shaky breath and nodded.
This year has been the worst.
~
Harry shook off his lingering thoughts about his bearer status, though Lyra's smug looks and repeated mutterings of "Magic finds a way." didn't help. Instead of dwelling on it, he decided to shift his focus to something more immediate—the next Horcrux.
With his veil secured around him, he apparated silently into Little Hangleton, materialising in the graveyard where Voldemort had been reborn. The atmosphere was thick with lingering traces of dark magic, though nothing active. Just a stain of what had transpired here.
Still, he let his magic spread outward, searching for any hidden presences or lingering signatures. Finding nothing, he turned his attention to his real target and followed the path from the map Grimbok's goblins had created.
The shack stood exactly as he had expected—a rotting, crumbling husk of a home. The heavy scent of mildew and neglect clung to the air. Harry frowned when he saw what remained of the old wards, long since broken, save for weak muggle-repelling charms.
The first thing that caught his attention was the snake skeleton nailed to the door. He grimaced. Of course, the Gaunts would leave something so ominous behind.
Shaking off the discomfort, he stepped inside, the floorboards creaking dangerously beneath his weight. The inside was even worse—cobwebs covered the corners, dust coated every surface, and broken furniture was strewn across the floor.
Despite the decay, a sharp prickle in his scar told him he was close. The feeling led him to what might have once been a living room, though it had long since been ransacked.
There.
Harry crouched down, fingers twitching as he used his magic to lift several loose, rotting floorboards. Beneath them, nestled in the dirt, was a small golden box.
Carefully, he levitated it out. The moment the lid lifted—
A sharp, splitting pain shot through his skull.
Harry sucked in a breath, clutching his head as something battered against his occlumency shields, whispering insidiously in his mind. Come closer… Touch it… You need it…
His hand had stretched out unconsciously, nearly brushing the ring inside the box.
He snapped back at the last second, yanking his hand away as if burned.
The pain receded instantly.
Harry exhaled shakily, then let out a snort. "Did Tom ever read The Hobbit?"
Still wary, he levitated the ring out of the box and let his magic crawl over it. Flesh-eating curse.
"Lovely," he muttered, noticing something else.
There, etched into the surface of the black stone, was a symbol.
The Hallows.
A sharp realisation struck him, and he suddenly knew what it was.
The Resurrection Stone.
His breath caught in his throat.
The Gaunts were descendants of Cadmus Peverell. And Salazar had once had possession of the stone, hadn't he? It made sense that it would be here.
Harry took a steadying breath. Summoning a rat from the surrounding field, he placed the ring against its body, murmuring a quiet apology.
The curse activated instantly.
The rat's flesh withered and decayed before his eyes, its body collapsing in on itself. Harry grimaced and swiftly ended its suffering.
"Well, that's horrifying," he muttered, banishing the corpse.
Examining the ring again, he realised something.
The stone wasn't affected by the curse. Nor did it feel tainted by the Horcrux.
Harry didn't dare touch it directly. Instead, he carefully placed the entire ring into a protected pouch and prepared to leave.
He heard a sharp crack of Apparition.
His body stilled. Holding his breath, he stepped toward the window, his veil still keeping him hidden.
His stomach dropped.
Dumbledore.
The familiar sight of vibrant robes and a long silver beard made Harry curse under his breath. He didn't waste a second.
Without another glance, he disapparated.
Harry appeared in the grand hall of the Keep with a sigh of relief. The close call left him unsettled. Dumbledore showing up in Little Hangleton at that moment couldn't have been a coincidence.
Taking a deep breath, he made his way straight to Ignotus' portrait.
The moment he entered the library, the two portraits—Ignotus and Salazar—looked up.
"Back so soon, dear boy?" Salazar drawled, but his eyes sharpened at the golden glow from Harry's levitated pouch. "Ah. I see you have something for us."
Harry pulled the ring out, letting it hover between them.
Ignotus' breath hitched.
"The Resurrection Stone," he whispered, almost reverently.
Harry nodded. "Can you confirm it?"
Ignotus' gaze softened with familiarity. "Yes."
Salazar, however, was frowning. "That band isn't original. The Gaunts must have reforged it into a ring."
Harry hummed. "I thought as much. Can I remove the stone safely?"
Ignotus nodded. "If you separate it from the ring, the curse should remain with the metal."
With precise control, Harry levitated the ring in one hand and the stone in the other, using his magic to snap the band in two. The moment it broke apart, the cursed magic shuddered, curling inward like a dying thing.
The stone remained untouched.
Harry exhaled and placed the cursed band into a warded pouch with the Horcruxes.
The stone hovered lazily in front of him.
Salazar was watching him carefully. "Be cautious, Harry."
"I know," he murmured, staring at the black gem.
He could feel it. A call, a temptation. The weight of all the people he had lost pressed against his chest.
"I'm not ready to see them yet," he admitted quietly, closing his hand around it.
Ignotus smiled, though there was something pained in his expression. "That is wise."
Before they could say more, a muffled giggle echoed from the hallway.
Harry groaned.
"Ah," Salazar smirked. "I see the elves have talked."
Harry turned to glare at them. "You mean gossiped."
Ignotus actually winced. "Er… well."
Harry sighed heavily, rubbing his temple. "I take it they told you about my—"
"Bearer status?" Salazar cut in, looking far too smug. "Oh, most certainly. They were thrilled."
Harry groaned again, running a hand down his face. "Bloody elves…"
Ignotus hesitated, his earlier warmth dimming slightly. "Harry… there's something you need to know."
Harry raised a brow. "More surprises?"
Ignotus hesitated again. "A bearer can only conceive with another wizard."
Harry froze.
The implications hit him immediately.
If he left for the other world, if he took Luna to safety, if he fulfilled his plan—
There was a very high chance he would never bear a child of his own.
Slowly, he exhaled. Then, with a bitter smile, he murmured, "Well… it's always a bit too good to be true, isn't it?"
Ignotus and Salazar both looked at him sadly, but Harry just shook his head.
He had accepted so many sacrifices already.
What was one more?
~
The August Wizengamot session was in full swing, and the chamber was uncomfortably packed.
Many of the Dark-aligned lords were absent—not surprising, considering the sheer number of arrest warrants issued after the ambush at the Ministry. Even so, the public gallery was crammed with spectators, eager for the latest political drama.
Harry sat in his seat, chin resting against his knuckles as he surveyed the proceedings with mild disinterest. He had told Neville and Blaise that these sessions were painfully dull most of the time, but they hadn't believed him.
His smirk widened when he caught sight of Neville's head slowly dipping forward, fighting off sleep.
Blaise, sitting beside him, noticed as well and gave him a sharp jab in the ribs. Neville startled upright, blinking rapidly, before giving Harry an unimpressed glare.
Harry only grinned.
Chief Greengrass finally called the chamber to order. "If there are no further delays, let us proceed with the petitions on today's docket. Lord Potter-Black, you have a motion on border security?"
Harry straightened. "Yes, Chief Warlock. Given the recent increase in attacks and the escape of dangerous criminals from Azkaban, I propose additional funding to reinforce the wards along our magical borders, particularly the southern ports and high-traffic Floo connections. Failure to act now could allow further infiltration by hostile forces."
Greengrass nodded, scanning the room. "Is there a second for the motion?"
Several wands shot up, including Augusta Longbottom's.
"A vote, then. All in favour?"
The sound of dozens of wands igniting with lumos signalled overwhelming approval. The motion passed easily, and Harry settled back in his seat as the next dispute was brought forward.
The chamber spent nearly two hours deliberating petty grievances between various families.
One was a dispute over property boundaries between the Macmillans and the Montagues. Another was a petition for additional funding for St. Mungo's. That one, at least, was worth Harry's time, and he gave his approval.
It wasn't until Augusta rose from her seat that things became interesting.
"Chief Warlock," she began, her voice clear and authoritative, "I call for a vote of no confidence against Cornelius Fudge."
Silence rippled through the chamber.
Harry barely held back his smirk. About damn time.
He raised his wand without hesitation. "I second the motion."
The chamber erupted.
Several of Fudge's remaining supporters shouted in protest, while others—including Amelia—looked grim but approving.
"ORDER!" Greengrass bellowed, slamming his gavel. "A motion has been called and seconded. We shall proceed to a vote."
The tally was quick.
Fudge was officially removed.
Harry wasn't quite done yet.
Before anyone else could speak, he rose smoothly from his seat. "As the Minister's position is now vacant, I nominate Madame Amelia Bones as interim Minister until the official election."
A low murmur swept the chamber.
Someone immediately nominated Dedalus Diggle as well, forcing a formal vote.
It was no contest.
Amelia won.
She looked momentarily stunned before inclining her head toward Harry, a rare flicker of gratitude in her eyes.
The sound of furious scribbling from the press seats confirmed that this session would be front-page news by tomorrow.
Chief Warlock Greengrass cleared his throat. "If there are no further petitions—"
"I have one," a voice called.
Harry froze.
His stomach twisted violently as Albus Dumbledore stepped forward from the guest benches.
Blaise and Neville both looked alarmed.
Harry forced himself to appear unaffected, though he could feel his pulse pounding.
Dumbledore's expression was serene, his hands folded in front of him as he addressed the chamber. "I bring forth a matter of utmost importance, one that concerns not only myself, but the well-being of Lord Potter-Black."
Harry clenched his jaw.
He had known Dumbledore would eventually try something, but this… this felt different.
Dumbledore's blue eyes twinkled, his voice carrying through the stunned silence.
"As you are all aware, I was once young Harry's magical guardian. As such, I took every precaution to ensure his safety, his well-being, and his best interests. One of those precautions was securing his future."
The silence was deafening.
Dumbledore's next words made Harry's breath hitch.
"During my tenure as his magical guardian, I arranged a marriage contract to protect his interests. Due to the limitations placed on my interactions with Harry, I do of course have to bring this before the courts."
A stunned pause.
Chaos.
Shouts of protest rang across the chamber. Several lords and ladies shot to their feet, demanding clarification.
Harry couldn't breathe.
He forced himself to focus, forced himself to stay calm.
Neville and Blaise looked aghast from their seats in the gallery.
Through the uproar, Harry managed to steel himself. His voice, when he spoke, was eerily calm.
"I want to see it."
Dumbledore beamed as if Harry had just asked for a lemon drop. "Of course."
He produced several copies of the contract, preparing to distribute them, when—
"Who is the other party?" someone demanded.
Harry's stomach dropped having an idea
Ginny Weasley was not subtle after all.
Dumbledore smiled.
"Why, myself, of course."
For a moment, the entire chamber froze.
A wave of absolute revulsion washed over Harry.
No. No, no, no, NO.
He forced himself to meet Dumbledore's gaze.
The man's expression was triumphant. Pleased.
Harry thought he might be sick.
The stunned silence shattered as pandemonium broke loose.
Shouts of disbelief and disgust echoed throughout the chamber.
"Outrageous!"
"That's an abuse of power!"
"Disgraceful!"
Harry barely heard them.
His fingers dug into the arms of his chair. His breath was shallow. Cold dread curled in his gut like poison.
This is real.
The contract was real.
And if it was real—
He had six months to marry this disgusting old man before his magic was forfeit.
Harry was definitely going to be sick.