Chapter 11
A Promise Given
……
Chapter Eleven
Amelia Bones moved gracefully through the ballroom, her demeanor a blend of authority and warmth that commanded respect from those around her. A smile broke across her face as she approached them with purpose.
“Mr. Potter, Miss Tonks, Mr. Black, Mr. Lupin,” she greeted them, her voice firm yet friendly. “Thank you for attending tonight. It means a great deal to me, and welcome to Bones Manor.”
“Thank you for having us, Madam Bones,” Sirius replied, feeling a sense of ease in her presence. “The place looks incredible.”
Amelia nodded, her eyes sparkling with pride. “I’m glad to hear that. We’ve worked hard to make it a memorable evening this year, what with everything going on.” She then turned her gaze toward the far side of the ballroom, where a group of young witches stood chatting animatedly. “And allow me to introduce my niece, Susan.”
Harry recognised Susan from Hogwarts, where she had been a fellow member of Dumbledore’s Army. As she approached, her auburn hair glimmered softly under the enchanted lights, and her silver dress shimmered in the light. A smile lit up her face upon seeing him.
“Harry! It’s so good to see you!” Susan exclaimed, her enthusiasm infectious. “I didn’t think you’d come!” Harry noted the initial look of shock on her face; he must have looked a lot different now than he did before they finished school in July.
“Yeah, well, I had to come out of hiding at some point,” Harry replied, returning her smile. “Nice to see you too, Susan.”
Amelia cleared her throat, drawing their attention back to her. “I’ve heard quite a bit about your Dumbledore’s Army meetings, Harry. Susan has told me about your dedication to teaching your fellow students. I must say, I’m very impressed with what you’ve accomplished.”
Harry felt a flush of pride at her words, but also a hint of embarrassment. “It was just a group of us trying to learn to defend ourselves,” he shrugged. “I’m glad it helped.”
“Just a group?” Amelia replied, her tone light yet serious. “It’s much more than that from what I heard; Susan was very complimentary. You’ve empowered young witches and wizards to stand up for themselves, and that’s no small feat, especially in the environment you were in.”
“Aunty,” Susan hissed, her cheeks slightly pink.
“Thanks,” Harry said, feeling his cheeks warm. The weight of Amelia’s acknowledgment sank in. It was reassuring, especially coming from someone of her stature, and Harry allowed himself a measure of pride at her words.
“Well, I won’t keep you from the festivities any longer,” Amelia said, her voice returning to its cheerful tone. “Enjoy the evening, and I hope to speak with you all again when we don't have new arrivals to greet.”
With a nod, she stepped away before pausing and looking at Sirius steadily.
“On behalf of the DMLE, Mr. Black, I apologise for the gross mishandling of your case fifteen years ago,” she offered.
“Mishandling might be an understatement, Madam Bones; however, none of that was of your doing,” Sirius replied formally.
“Nevertheless, it has brought great shame to our department—a shame that is deserved, though i think there have been many other examples of that recently. Enjoy the night,” she finished before walking away. Susan smiled and gave a small wave, saying she would catch up with Harry later before returning to her group of friends, who all huddled together before looking back over.
“Seems interest is already starting,” Tonks muttered.
“Not too shabby,” Sirius remarked, leaning closer to Harry with a grin. “Seems you’ve made quite an impression on Amelia, my dearest godson.”
“Aren’t I your only one?”
“That I’m aware of, anyway, not the point,” Sirius replied, winking.
…
As the music floated gently through the ballroom, Daphne Greengrass stood near the dance floor's edge, conversing with Lisa Turpin and Terry Boot. The trio was catching up on their summer break, sharing stories of their respective adventures and misadventures at Hogwarts.
“I swear, the moment I stepped into my mum’s kitchen, it was like stepping into a culinary battleground,” Lisa laughed, twirling a lock of her dark hair. “If I had to eat one more of her experimental dishes, I might have had to go into hiding.”
“Sounds like a noble cause,” Terry chimed in with a grin. “I’d have joined you, but my parents would’ve hunted me down.”
Just then, the grand doors to the ballroom swung open, capturing their attention. A hush fell over the crowd as the attendant announced, “Presenting Mr. Harry Potter, Mr. Sirius Black, Mr. Remus Lupin, and Miss Nymphadora Tonks!”
Lisa and Terry exchanged glances, eyes widening in surprise as they spotted Harry stepping into the ballroom. It had been about five or six weeks since they had last seen him, but the transformation was undeniable. He stood taller, his shoulders broader, and there was a new confidence in his stride. His deep green dress robes hugged his physique in a way that made him look every bit the handsome young man he was becoming.
“Wow,” Terry murmured, unable to tear his gaze away. “Is that Harry? He looks… different.”
“More like he’s been hitting the gym or something,” Lisa remarked, a note of astonishment in her voice. “He looks really good.”
Daphne’s heart raced as she felt that familiar pulse of magic thrumming within her—a sensation she had tried to ignore since the curse had first forced its presence upon her. It was a feeling that hinted at a bond forming, a connection to Harry that was becoming more pronounced. The curse was unmistakably picking him as a candidate for the bond, and it sent a mix of exhilaration and dread through her.
She forced her expression to remain neutral, even as concern crept into her thoughts. The Greengrass family had to maintain their distance from Harry publicly, and Daphne couldn’t comment on him to her friends. The secret nature of his training with her family loomed over her like a dark cloud.
“He looks great,” Lisa continued, oblivious to Daphne’s internal turmoil. “And look at his date! That’s Tonks; she recently became an Auror, right? I can’t believe he’s with her.”
“Definitely,” Terry agreed, eyeing the couple as they made their way further into the room. “What a surprise pairing! I wonder how that happened? Likes an older woman, it seems,” he smirked.
“So crass, Terry!” Lisa exclaimed.
“Sorry, but every bloke under sixteen is thinking it or visualising it”
“Boys,” Lisa muttered.
Daphne bit her lip, irritation flaring within her. What if this relationship meant Harry was emotionally unavailable? The thought settled uncomfortably in her chest. If he were truly involved with Tonks, it could complicate everything, particularly the magical bond that the curse was insistent upon forming. It wouldn’t be good if he were preoccupied with a relationship when he had no idea about the connection binding her together with him.
“Maybe he’s just escorting her,” Daphne said, trying to keep her voice steady.
“But they seem close,” Lisa observed, her eyes tracking Harry and Tonks as they laughed together, their chemistry apparent even from a distance.
“Maybe it’s just for tonight, as Daphne says,” Terry suggested, though his tone lacked conviction. “Still, I didn’t expect him to come back looking like that.”
“He hasn’t changed that much,” Daphne replied, her brow furrowing. Maybe Harry’s feelings would be an issue, but by Merlin, everyone was fawning over him—and that likely included a fair few witches.
At that moment, a fellow fifth-year, Michael Corner, wandered over, his gaze drawn by the same spectacle. “Did you see Harry?” he asked, shaking his head in disbelief. “He’s practically glowing! I mean, he’s always been the ‘Boy Who Lived,’ but now he looks like he’s stepped right out of a wizarding romance novel.”
“Read many romance novels, Michael?” Lisa smirked.
“Er… no,” he replied sheepishly, his cheeks reddening.
“Exactly!” Terry bemoaned, throwing his hands up in exaggerated despair. “And here I was hoping to finally swoon Susan Bones tonight. How am I supposed to compete with that? Wear some baggy robes or something so we can’t count the muscles, maybe?”
“Alright, he isn’t that ripped Terry” Michael muttered.
Daphne suppressed a smirk at Terry’s theatrics but couldn’t deny that Harry’s presence stirred something in her. The jealousy simmered beneath her composed facade.
“Terry, just how hard are you staring at Harry?” Lisa laughed.
“Like you aren’t! I swear, if he learns to chat up girls, we’re all done for.”
“Might be safe there, he was an awkward mess with Chang last year,” Michael offered, trying to cheer up his friend.
“Can you blame him? The girl was a mess last year.”
“Her boyfriend was murdered the summer before!” Lisa slapped Terry’s arm.
Meanwhil,e Elizabeth Greengrass stood at the edge of the ballroom, a glass of sparkling wine in hand as she watched the guests mingle. Her gaze was drawn to the grand entrance just as the doors swung open, revealing Harry Potter. She leaned closer to her husband, Thomas, and whispered under the privacy charm they had cast around themselves, “Well, would you look at that? Harry looks rather fetching this evening.”
Thomas followed her gaze, a playful smirk spreading across his face. “Are you saying you have something to worry about?” he teased, arching an eyebrow.
Elizabeth let out a soft laugh, shaking her head. “Oh, heavens no! But perhaps we should be concerned about our daughters getting any ideas.”
The laughter that bubbled from her was met with a look of mock horror from Thomas. “Our daughters? With a boy? Absolutely not!” He feigned a gasp, his protective instincts kicking in as a father.
Elizabeth chuckled, taking a sip of her drink. “What? He’s a nice young man. It’s perfectly normal for girls to admire someone like Harry. He appears to be everything as a gentleman at our home.”
“It's what goes on in young boys' heads that troubles me,” Thomas replied, shaking his head. “I was a young man once, too, you know.”
“And what was it that you thought about me when we first met?” Elizabeth quipped, her eyes sparkling with mischief.
Suddenly, Thomas’s expression shifted, and he glanced down at his nearly empty glass. “Ah … well, I seem to be out of drink,” he said hastily, hoping to divert the conversation. He took a quick step back toward the bar, his face betraying a mixture of amusement and relief as he left Elizabeth chuckling behind him.
Further across the hall, Susan had returned to her group.
As the enchanting music swirled through the ballroom, Susan Bones stood with her friends, Hannah Abbott and Neville Longbottom, a soft smile lingering on her lips after her earlier encounter with Harry. He had greeted her warmly, and his handsome appearance caught her off guard.
“Seriously, Susan, you looked like you were about to faint when you saw him,” Hannah teased, nudging her shoulder playfully. “What’s the story there? Spill!”
“It’s nothing! I just wasn’t expecting him to look so… different,” Susan replied, brushing off the teasing while glancing over at Harry. “He looks great, though. Like, really handsome.”
“Great? He looks fantastic!” Hannah exclaimed, her eyes darting to where Harry stood with Tonks, both of them laughing together. Hannah leaned in closer to Susan. “You should tell him how you feel! Now’s your chance!”
“Seriously, Hannah? All because I was a bit shocked?” Susan laughed, shaking her head. “It’s not like that. I just think he looks good. It caught me off guard, that’s all.”
Just then, a group of fellow Hogwarts girls strolled over, their curious expressions eager for gossip. “Hey, Susan, have you seen Potter?” one of them asked, her eyes sparkling with excitement—Neville recognized her as Romilda Vane. “I heard he has a dragon tattoo on his chest! Is it true?”
“A dragon tattoo?” Neville echoed, his brow furrowing in confusion. “Where did you hear that?”
The girls giggled, leaning closer as if sharing a juicy secret. “I overheard some fifth years talking about it. Apparently, it’s huge and looks really cool!” one of them said, her voice dripping with intrigue.
“Honestly, how could anyone confirm that?” Susan said, trying to suppress a grin. “I doubt Harry would show off a tattoo like that, especially at a formal event.”
“Maybe if you ask him, he’ll show you!” Hannah suggested, her voice teasing. “You know, for research purposes!”
Neville sighed, his cheeks flushing slightly. “Yeah, let’s not make it weird. I think it’s probably just a rumor.”
“I can’t imagine Harry with a tattoo,” Susan mused, her thoughts swirling as she glanced over at him again. “But he definitely has changed a lot in the past few weeks.”
“Right? And he’s all buff now,” Hannah chimed in, her eyes sparkling. “I mean, look at those robes! They’re practically hugging him!”
As the girls continued to gossip and giggle about Harry’s rumored tattoo and appearance, Neville felt a twinge of protectiveness, wishing he could defend his friend from the inevitable speculation.
“Let’s just hope he doesn’t hear any of this,” he muttered, shaking his head.
“Hear what?” came a voice from behind, as Ron and Hermione joined the group.
“Is it true Harry has a dragon tattoo on his chest?” one of the girls asked eagerly, turning to the newcomers.
“Uh…” Hermione began, clearly caught off guard.
“Oh yeah, it’s huge, looks like the Horntail he flew circles around!” Ron said cheerfully, causing Neville to look shocked at his casual reply.
“Oh Merlin, really?” one of the girls exclaimed.
“No, he doesn’t! Ronald, don’t spread rumors!” Hermione chided, giving him a playful slap on the arm.
“Ow!” he complained, rubbing his arm with a frown.
“How does Granger know? Have you seen him naked?” another girl asked, earning a laugh from Susan and Hannah.
“Pardon—what? No, of course not!” Hermione stammered, her cheeks flushing.
“Shame,” Hannah muttered with amusement, unable to hide her smirk.
Neville looked up at the ceiling, silently thanking his lucky stars that he was not Harry Potter this evening.
…
Harry stood at the edge of the dance floor, attempting to engage in conversation with a random wizard whose name he couldn’t quite recall. The man was recounting an obscure tale about the history of broomsticks, complete with details that felt more suited to a lecture from Professor Binns than a festive ball. Harry nodded along, though his mind drifted, searching for a way to escape without being rude.
“…and that’s why the Nimbus 2000 was such a revolutionary model. You see, it all comes down to the angle of the bristles,” the wizard droned on, his eyes gleaming with enthusiasm.
Harry forced a smile, glancing around the ballroom. Couples began to fill the dance floor, laughter mingling with the soft music that had begun to play. The scent of blooming roses filled the air, a welcome distraction from the tedious tale he was stuck in.
Just as he was contemplating how to make his excuses, the wizard leaned in, excitement etched on his features. “You have a Firebolt, don’t you?”
Before Harry could respond, Tonks appeared, her vibrant hair shifting colors like a kaleidoscope. She approached with a grin, her energy radiating warmth. “Excuse me, Mr. Enthusiasm,” she interjected with playful authority, “but I need to steal Mister Potter away for a moment.”
The older wizard looked slightly taken aback, but Tonks didn’t wait for a response. She grasped Harry’s hand, pulling him gently but firmly toward the dance floor. “Come on, let’s get you out of that conversation,” she said, laughter dancing in her voice.
Harry chuckled, relieved as he followed her. “Thanks, I thought I was going to fall asleep.”
Tonks flashed him a mischievous grin. “I didn’t know broomstick history could be so thrilling. I mean, come on—who cares about bristle angles when there’s dancing to be done?”
As the music swelled, Harry tightened his grip on Tonks' hand, leading her into the first step of the waltz. His body moved fluidly, the lessons from the past few weeks paying off. His mind, however, was a whirl of thoughts trying to keep pace with the rhythm.
One step, two step. One step, wait... was it spin?
Tonks grinned at him as they began to rotate gracefully in time with the music, her feet light and agile as she moved effortlessly in sync with Harry. “Not bad, Potter,” she whispered playfully. “You might actually look like you know what you're doing.”
Harry stifled a laugh, focusing on keeping his posture steady and his movements elegant. The last thing he wanted was to stumble in front of the many watching eyes in the ballroom. He forced himself to relax, even as his brain kept trying to dictate every movement.
One step, two step, glide... right foot back.
Tonks, ever the professional, guided him through a particularly graceful turn, and Harry followed suit, managing to pull it off without so much as a misstep. Her expression remained casual, though she was doing her best to shield him from the gazes lingering around them. She winked at a group of witches who were watching from a corner, clearly trying to gauge their interest.
“You’re saving me a lot of trouble tonight,” Harry said under his breath, keeping his tone light as they danced.
Tonks chuckled softly, her lips curving into a mischievous smile. “Oh, don’t thank me yet. If you make it through this night without a marriage proposal, then I’ve earned my pay. And the politics I hate to say it, have not started”
They glided around the dance floor, weaving effortlessly among the other couples, Harry's steps growing more confident with every passing minute. His earlier worries about making a fool of himself started to fade as he allowed the music to guide him.
Spin Harry thought, and sure enough, they executed a smooth turn together.
Tonks caught his eye, her face softening again for a moment. “You’ve really improved, you know. Would’ve thought you were born for this.”
Harry scoffed, feeling his cheeks warm slightly. “I had a good teacher.”
“Lucky for me, then.” Tonks’ eyes sparkled with amusement as they performed another sweeping rotation. "And lucky for you, you don’t have to worry about anyone trying to attach themselves to your arm for the rest of the evening.”
Harry nodded, grateful for her help. “You know, I always thought these formal events were more trouble than they’re worth.”
“Tell me about it,” she teased. “But, at least you're surviving.”
As they danced across the floor, Harry couldn’t help but notice the occasional glances from people around the room, both curious and speculative. A few witches whispered among themselves, and Harry was sure that if not for Tonks, at least one of them might have approached him by now. But with her by his side, they seemed content to admire from a distance.
The waltz began to wind down, and Harry spun Tonks one final time before the music faded into silence. There was a light round of applause as couples parted and regrouped, and Tonks turned to Harry with a grin. “Well done”.
“Thanks to you,” Harry replied, genuinely relieved to have made it through the dance without incident. He was about to say more, but Tonks nudged him slightly, her eyes glinting with mischief again.
“Watch out. I think you’ve got some admirers coming your way,” she muttered, nodding subtly toward a group of younger witches gathering on the edge of the floor.
Harry groaned inwardly, and Tonks laughed. “Come on, let’s go get a drink. Maybe we can hide in plain sight for a bit longer.”
As Harry and Tonks stepped off the dance floor, they were intercepted by none other than Madam Amelia Bones. Her presence commanded attention immediately—head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, a woman of formidable reputation and sharp intellect. Tonks, upon seeing her superior, quickly straightened her posture, but a warm smile softened her face.
"Madam Bones," Tonks greeted, giving her a respectful nod.
Amelia returned the gesture “Miss Tonks” before turning her attention fully to Harry, her sharp eyes assessing him with a mixture of curiosity and approval. “Mr. Potter, may I have a word?”
Harry nodded, trying not to feel overwhelmed by the stern yet not unkind gaze of one of the most respected witches in the Ministry. “Of course.”
“You looked quite at ease on the dance floor, and with one of my aurors no less” she began, surprising Harry with the compliment. “Seems you’re talents are not limited to a broomstick.”
“Thank you, ma’am,” Harry replied, doing his best to remain composed. “I’ve been practicing.”
Amelia nodded thoughtfully but wasted no time moving on to the reason she had sought him out. “I wanted to speak to you privately, if you don’t mind,” she said, her voice carrying the same no-nonsense tone she often used in courtrooms, her eyes briefly flicked to Tonks. “I’ll have your dancing partner back in no time”
“Yes ma’am,” Tonks replied with a smile.
Tonks offered Harry a quick wink before excusing herself, melting into the crowd as Harry stood face to face with Madam Bones.
"I wanted to tell you that I was rather impressed with how you handled yourself during that sham of a trial last summer," she said, her voice lowering slightly as her expression hardened. “The way Cornelius Fudge and Dolores Umbridge conducted themselves was disgraceful. Their underhanded tactics and the blatant disregard for fairness—it disgusts me.”
Her eyes flashed, and for a brief moment, Harry saw the steely resolve that made her so feared and respected in the Ministry.
"Thank you, Madam Bones," Harry said, unsure how to respond to such a frank admission. “I just told the truth.”
“And you did it with strength,” Amelia replied, her tone firm. “You stood your ground. Many wizards older and more experienced than you would have faltered under that pressure. It’s no small feat, Potter, especially with the way the political climate has shifted these days.”
She paused, folding her arms across her chest as if considering her next words carefully. “Your ability to cast a corporeal Patronus—something even most fully qualified wizards struggle with. Susan told me you also managed to teach it to a number of students this year?”
Harry felt a surge of pride, remembering the Dementor attack and how his Patronus had saved him and Dudley. “I’ve had to use it a few times,” he said modestly.
Amelia nodded approvingly. “It’s a difficult spell, but more than that, it shows mental fortitude—an ability to focus on the good in even the darkest of times. That’s a quality not everyone has, and one that is needed in our line of work.”
Harry blinked, surprised by how her words made him feel seen in a way few adults in authority ever made him feel. She wasn't fawning over him or treating him like some hero from a storybook—she was speaking to him like an equal, like someone with potential.
“I understand you’ve expressed interest in becoming an Auror after Hogwarts?” Amelia asked, her sharp eyes once again studying him closely.
Harry nodded. “Yes, I’ve been thinking about it. It’s something I really want to do.”
A small smile tugged at the corner of Amelia’s lips, though her expression remained otherwise composed. “I think you’d be perfect for it. You have the skill—and more importantly, the heart. We need witches and wizards like you, people who aren’t just talented but willing to stand up for what’s right, no matter the cost.”
Her words hit Harry harder than he expected. Coming from Amelia Bones, head of the DMLE, it didn’t feel like mere encouragement. It felt like a proposition. A call to action.
“I appreciate that,” he said earnestly, his voice steady. “It’s what I want—to make a difference, to help.”
Amelia nodded, eyes gleaming with something close to approval. “Then keep your focus. Finish your studies. When the time comes, you’ll have a place with us—if you still want it.”
The weight of her offer settled between them, but Harry met her gaze without hesitation. “I will,” he promised.
Satisfied, Amelia extended her hand. Harry shook it firmly. “Good. I look forward to seeing where you go, Potter. But I’m afraid that’s not the only reason I wanted to speak with you.”
“Oh?”
“The public’s trust in the Ministry and the DMLE is... fragile. The families on the Wizengamot who weren’t arrested have been withholding funds, citing concerns over corruption and secrecy regarding the Dark Lord,” she began.
“Ah, yes. Lying and covering things up tends to have that effect,” Harry replied dryly, glancing around.
“I cast a privacy charm before we sat down,” she assured him. “Speak freely.”
He nodded. “So, what is it you need from me?”
“Who says I need anything?” Amelia countered, though the slight twitch of her lips betrayed her amusement. “I’d hoped that, given our brief but positive interactions, you’d know I’m not like those who tried to silence you. Your voice carries weight, Harry. And we can’t fight this war without funding.”
“So I’m your PR stunt?” He raised an eyebrow.
“Bluntly put? Yes.” She didn’t flinch. “But you like I want the Dark Lord gone. His followers are a threat to us all. And I know a man like you wouldn’t be comfortable leaving our nation defenseless.”
…
“Oh this could be trouble” Tonks muttered
As Harry stood by the drinks table with Tonks, savoring a moment of reprieve from the formalities of the night, he spotted a man approaching through the crowd. The wizard was tall, with slicked-back blonde hair, sharp features, and an unsettling glint in his eyes. Harry had seen him before in passing, though he had never spoken to him directly. Corban Yaxley. A name Harry had heard whispered, always with caution.
"Potter, and … auror … Tinks?" Yaxley greeted, his voice smooth yet carrying an undercurrent of something darker. He gave Harry a polite nod, though the gesture felt more like a predator acknowledging its prey.
“Tonks, but I’ll forgive the error, I know the length of time on his mortal coil affects the finer functions of the mind” his cousin smiled sweetly. Harry noted the look of pure outrage form behind the mans eyes before he stepped in.
“Evening,” Harry replied cautiously, keeping his tone polite but feeling a tension coil in his chest. The way Yaxley looked at him, his eyes calculating and cold, reminded Harry of how Lucius Malfoy often scrutinized him—as if weighing him for some unseen purpose.
“You’ve made quite a name for yourself,” Yaxley continued, his smile never quite reaching his eyes, a final disdainful glance spared for Tonks. “The Boy Who Lived. Famous for surviving, and yet, real power… well, that’s something else entirely, isn’t it?”
Harry stiffened at the subtle jab in Yaxley’s words. He could sense the man was trying to unnerve him, to assert dominance in the most passive way possible. Yaxley’s expression was calm, but something was lurking beneath the surface, something malicious.
Yaxley’s gaze flicked from Harry’s scar to his dress robes. “The thing is,” Yaxley said, his tone deceptively pleasant, “some in our world have power, and some... well, they’re just useful tools, wouldn’t you say?”
Harry felt a flash of irritation rise within him. He could feel Yaxley trying to needle him, to remind him that no matter what he had done, no matter what he had faced, there were forces in the wizarding world more formidable than him—or at least, that’s what Yaxley wanted him to believe.
Before Harry could respond, he felt Tonks gently grip his arm, her fingers squeezing lightly as if to remind him to stay calm. The silent message was clear: don’t let him get to you. Not here. Not now.
Yaxley’s eyes flicked toward Tonks, his expression one of mild amusement. “As for you Miss Tonks,” he said, inclining his head. “Always in such interesting company? Or are pickings slim nowadays? The Ministry certainly keeps you busy, doesn’t it?”
Tonks, keeping her composure, replied smoothly, “Slim pickings? Awfully bold of someone who appears unaccompanied? Couldn’t find someone to enjoy the evening with, Yaxley?”
“Oh, very clever,” Yaxley replied with a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes, the outrage of before gone. He gave Harry one last, lingering look. “Though some of us have more important things to focus on than dancing and pleasantries.”
Harry’s jaw tightened. There was something in the way Yaxley spoke, the way he looked at him, that made his skin crawl. The man was speaking in riddles, dropping hints of something darker.
Before the tension could escalate further, Harry noticed Sirius across the ballroom. His godfather had spotted Yaxley too and was already beginning to make his way toward them, his expression set in a way that promised something and not to favourable for the man before them.
As Harry stood by the drinks table, trying to keep his growing frustration in check, Yaxley’s eyes flicked toward the crowd. He followed Harry’s brief glance and saw Sirius Black approaching, weaving through the ballroom with clear intent. Yaxley’s lips curled into a smirk, and his gaze slid back to Harry.
"Ah, your godfather," Yaxley remarked casually, though his voice was laced with something darker. "It’s fortunate, isn’t it? That he was released. After all those years in Azkaban, too."
Harry’s grip on his glass tightened as he felt a sudden spike of anger. Yaxley’s smile widened, as though sensing Harry’s reaction.
"It would be... unfortunate," Yaxley continued, his voice almost a purr, "if anything were to happen to him now. So soon after regaining his freedom. But these are dangerous times, as you know. Accidents can happen."
Harry’s vision sharpened as the implications of Yaxley’s words sank in. His fingers twitched toward his wand. He felt a fierce need to shut Yaxley up, to make him pay for the veiled threat against Sirius. But just as he began to move, a soft pressure from Tonks on his arm stopped him.
Harry took a breath, forcing himself to stay still, though his heart pounded with anger. He knew Yaxley was trying to provoke him, bait him into a mistake.
Yaxley’s smirk deepened, clearly enjoying the effect his words had on Harry.
Before Harry could respond, another figure stepped into the circle—Rufus Scrimgeour, the Head of the Auror Office.
“Ah, Mr. Potter,” Scrimgeour said in a low, authoritative tone, his lion-like features briefly turning to Yaxley. “Yaxley, forgive me, but I hope you won’t mind if I borrow Mr. Potter and Miss Tonks for a moment. Official business, of course,” he added, his face impassive.
Yaxley’s eyes narrowed slightly, and Harry could sense the faintest flicker of annoyance. But Yaxley’s mask of civility remained firmly in place.
“Of course, Scrimgeour,” Yaxley replied, his voice still polite but carrying an undercurrent of resentment. “Wouldn’t dream of interfering with official business. Though I didn’t think we were so desperate for Auror recruits.”
Rufus smiled thinly, standing tall with his arms crossed behind his back. “And I didn’t think we were so desperate to believe lies about Imperius curses fifteen years ago, but here we are.”
Harry noticed Yaxley’s jaw tighten, his eyes narrowing further. The tension between the two men was palpable, and some guests nearby had started to take notice.
“Something to say, Yaxley?” Scrimgeour asked, his voice calm but pointed, eyes flicking toward the growing attention. Yaxley, too, seemed to notice and finally took a step back.
“Nothing at all,” Yaxley muttered, his smile now more of a sneer. He gave Harry one final, barely concealed look of disdain before turning on his heel and disappearing into the crowd.
As Yaxley walked away, Harry felt some of the tension leave his body, though a sense of unease lingered.
Scrimgeour turned back to Harry and Tonks, his gaze firm but not unfriendly. “You’d do well to steer clear of Yaxley, Potter,” he advised quietly. “He’s slippery. Officially neutral, of course, but those of us who’ve been around long enough know better. Personally, if this war kicks off, I hope he’s foolish enough to go down fighting. I’d be all to grateful to do it myself”
Harry nodded. “Thanks,” he said, grateful for the timely intervention.
Tonks gave Scrimgeour a small smile. “Appreciate the save, Boss.”
Scrimgeour nodded once, his sharp eyes lingering on Harry for a moment. “Just remember, Potter, many in our world are watching you—not all of them with good intentions. Be careful who you trust.”
“Are you one of those I should watch?” Harry asked, causing Tonks to pinch him behind his back—hard. But to their surprise, the old Auror chuckled.
“That’s exactly it. We’ll make an Auror out of you yet.”
With that, Scrimgeour gave them both a nod and moved on, blending back into the crowd.
Harry exhaled, finally letting the tension ease from his shoulders. He glanced at Tonks, who gave him a reassuring smile. “Close one,” she muttered. “And maybe don't insult my boss to his face next time?”
“Yeah,” Harry agreed, glancing back in the direction Yaxley had disappeared. “Close one.”
But even as the moment passed, Harry couldn’t shake the feeling that Yaxley’s words had been both a warning and a threat.
“Come on—the night is still young, and more dancing awaits before you’re wrangled back into politics!” Tonks teased.
“As the lady bids,” Harry smirked, holding out his arm.
……
Part two of the ball to follow soon.