Chapter 13
A Promise Given
……
Chapter Thirteen
Voldemort stood by the window of Malfoy Manor's study, his gaze distant as he looked over the darkened grounds. Though Lucius Malfoy had willingly offered up his ancestral home as a base, the man had little choice. The failure at the Ministry—the loss of the prophecy—had ignited a cold fury within him. Worse still, the death of Bellatrix, his most devoted and deadly follower, had set his plans back considerably.
His two duels with the Potter boy still gnawed at his thoughts, confirming an unpleasant truth: the splitting of his soul had weakened him. Not to a degree where he felt vulnerable—he was still the most powerful wizard alive, far beyond any rival—but it was undeniable. The fraction of his soul lost to the ether had taken a toll, and that angered him more than he cared to admit.
I must find another path to immortality. The thought pulsed with urgency. I will not sacrifice my strength just to live as a shadow of what I was.
If there was one thing Voldemort despised more than anything, it was weakness. And weakness, in all its forms, had become intolerable. His Death Eaters had learned that well after he had made an example of Rodolphus Lestrange. Rodolphus had been lucky to survive; Voldemort had found it easier to vent his fury on the man than to lose Bellatrix entirely. His followers now feared him more than ever, and none dared mention how the Potter boy had managed to hold him off long enough for Dumbledore to intervene.
Dumbledore. The name brought a fresh wave of rage. He was the only real threat, the obstacle that needed removing before Voldemort could solidify his control. I will break him, he vowed.
A sharp knock interrupted his thoughts.
"Enter," Voldemort commanded without turning. He already knew who it would be. Only two dared knock, and one was currently away on assignment.
Lucius Malfoy stepped into the room, his face as ever a mask of deference. "My Lord, I bring word from Yaxley."
Voldemort’s voice remained cold. "What word?"
"Amelia Bones has authorized the Aurors to use lethal force. A kill order has been issued for anyone known to be a Death Eater."
Voldemort’s lips thinned at the news. The first war had dragged on before the Aurors had resorted to killing his followers; this time, it seemed Madam Bones would not hesitate. Interesting.
"Then we kill her first," Voldemort said, his voice dripping with malice. "I want her head mounted on the steps of the Ministry, her body left in Diagon Alley for all to see."
Lucius hesitated. "She will be heavily protected, my Lord. The Aurors have reinforced every senior minister, and any homes we were aware of are empty—"
The sconces on the wall burst into flames, flaring violently as Voldemort’s anger spiked.
"Then we do as we did before." Voldemort finally turned to face Lucius, his gaze sharp and menacing. "Find the unwanted, the street rats, and those no one will mourn. Kill them. Begin building the Inferi."
"It will be done, my Lord," Lucius said with a swift bow. But then, his voice lowered. "There is something else."
Voldemort’s expression hardened. "Speak."
"Potter… he killed a handful of the Dementors you sent to the Bones’ ball."
For the briefest of moments, Voldemort’s control wavered. The idea was preposterous—Dementors were not supposed to be killed. They couldn’t be killed, not in any traditional sense.
"How?" he demanded, his voice a lethal whisper.
"Yaxley reported that Potter’s Patronus… tore them apart."
A flash of something unfamiliar pulsed through Voldemort, but he quickly squashed it. Doubt. Dementors were not indestructible, he reasoned to himself, but this was unexpected. Still, it did not matter.
"It changes nothing," Voldemort said, his tone dismissive, though a slight unease lingered. "We control the horde, and they have served their purpose for now. They will be useful again."
He turned his focus back to Lucius, his gaze narrowing. "And your other task?"
Lucius straightened, prepared for this. "Narcissa has taken Draco and left the manor. I purchased a small property years ago under a false name. The story is that she has renounced me, disgusted by my association with you. She intends to file for divorce. That should appease the fool of a Headmaster and convince him that Draco… can be reformed."
Voldemort’s red eyes glittered dangerously as he took in the plan. "Your son is soft, Lucius. All bluster and no substance. But we are out of options." His voice lowered, carrying an edge of finality. "See to it that he does not fail me."
Lucius bowed deeply, his face pale but resolute. "He won’t, my Lord."
Voldemort said nothing more, but the cold, burning look in his eyes was enough to make Lucius leave swiftly. Alone again, Voldemort turned back to the window. The cold night air seemed to thicken with his presence as his mind whirred, calculating, plotting.
…
Dobby hummed quietly as he bustled around the Gryffindor common room, a feather duster in hand. The house-elves were busy preparing the castle for the return of students in two weeks, but Dobby took special care with this particular room. After all, this was where Harry Potter, the great and noble Harry Potter, would be staying. His friend.
The room, now empty of students, was peaceful. The fire in the hearth crackled softly, casting a warm glow, but it was Dobby’s job to make sure everything was perfect. He floated from one surface to the next, dusting with enthusiasm.
As he moved toward a forgotten shelf near the back of the room, Dobby’s large eyes caught something strange. A thick, dusty book lay open on the floor beneath the shelf, its pages ruffled as if it had fallen recently.
"Oooh, what is this?" Dobby murmured, his ears perking up. He quickly set down his duster and waddled over to the book, peering at it with curiosity. “Naughty book, falling off shelves when no students are here!”
With a grunt, Dobby reached down to pick it up, but as soon as his fingers brushed the cover, the book twitched and slid a few inches away from him.
Dobby blinked in surprise, his ears flopping as he tilted his head. “Dobby is just trying to tidy up!” he said, scooting closer and grabbing at the book again.
But the book slid even farther this time, making a soft shuffling sound as it moved across the floor. Dobby’s eyes widened in alarm.
“Naughty book!” Dobby squeaked. He lunged after it, but the book danced out of his reach, flopping open and then snapping shut as if mocking him.
Frustrated, Dobby tried again. He pounced, arms outstretched, but the book shot up into the air, sailing over his head. Dobby landed with a thud on the floor, his hat askew. He huffed and scrambled to his feet, chasing the book as it hovered around the room, bouncing off furniture like it was playing a game.
"Dobby will catch you! Yes, Dobby will!" he said determinedly, darting toward the mischievous tome. But each time he got close, it darted just out of reach. He leapt for it again, only to crash into the coffee table, sending a pile of neatly stacked cushions toppling over.
"Oof! No fair!" Dobby puffed, his face flushed as he dusted himself off.
The book seemed to dance in midair, swaying teasingly before zooming toward the window. Dobby sprang into action, leaping onto a chair to block its path, but the book stopped just before him and hovered in front of his face. For a brief moment, Dobby thought he had won.
"Ha! Gotcha!" Dobby reached out eagerly.
But with a flick, the book darted upward, flying over his head and sending him tumbling off the chair and onto the floor once again. Dobby’s ears flapped wildly as he tried to get up.
Before Dobby could scramble to his feet, the book shimmered and—without a sound—vanished into thin air.
Dobby blinked, rubbing his large eyes. He glanced around the room, puzzled. "Where… where did the naughty book go?"
He scratched his head, utterly confused. The common room was quiet once more, save for the crackling fire and the soft flutter of the curtains.
“Dobby is thinking he needs more sleep…” he muttered to himself, slowly picking up his feather duster and shaking his head in disbelief. With a sigh, he turned back to his work, still casting wary glances at the shelf where the strange book had fallen.
Meanwhile, in the boy's dormitory on a bed with the name Harry James Potter carved into the enchanted wood, the mysterious book reappeared. It shimmered into existence before dropping gently and lying quietly on the neatly made blankets as if waiting for someone to find it.
Far across the castle, in his quiet study, Albus Dumbledore sat at his desk, preparing for the school year ahead. Stacks of parchment and old texts were spread out before him, but his attention was elsewhere. A subtle, unfamiliar ripple of magic had stirred within the castle, faint yet distinct, like the echo of something ancient awakening.
Frowning slightly, he stood from his desk and moved toward one of the large, enchanted mirrors lining the walls of his study—each one showing various corners of Hogwarts. With a quick gesture of his hand, the mirror flickered to life, revealing the Gryffindor common room.
Dobby, the ever-enthusiastic house-elf, was standing in the middle of the room, looking around in confusion. He was muttering to himself, his wide eyes darting from the shelf to the floor as though searching for something. Dumbledore watched as the little elf gave the room one final glance before picking up his feather duster and resuming his cleaning duties.
A soft chuckle escaped Dumbledore’s lips. “Ah, Dobby…” he murmured to himself, eyes twinkling. “Always so dedicated.” He watched for a moment longer, amused by the elf’s antics, before dismissing the ripple of energy as some harmless mischief.
Satisfied that all was well in Gryffindor Tower, Dumbledore returned to his desk, though the feeling of that faint magical disturbance lingered in his thoughts like a half-remembered dream.
…
The sun hung low over the sprawling grounds of the Greengrass estate, casting long shadows across the dueling field. Harry stood in the center, wand raised, sweat trickling down his brow as he faced off against three formidable opponents—Sirius, Remus, and Mad-Eye Moody.
All three wizards were seasoned fighters, pushing Harry hard during these training sessions to test his limits. But Harry was holding his own. His reflexes were sharp, his spells precise, and he had grown adept at reading their movements.
Sirius launched a flurry of disarming spells, Remus followed with a barrage of hexes, and Moody, ever the vigilant Auror, hammered away at Harry’s defenses with powerful curses that rattled the ground beneath them. Harry darted from side to side, deflecting curses with precise shield charms, his mind calculating his next move.
“Constant vigilance, Potter!” Moody bellowed, his magical eye spinning wildly as he tracked Harry’s every movement.
But Harry remained calm, focused. He could feel that familiar sensation again—a deep well of energy just beneath the surface, waiting to be tapped. He allowed the power to surge, but this time, rather than letting it control him, he controlled it, guiding his actions.
With a swift flick of his wand, Harry fired a stunning spell at Sirius, who blocked it with ease. But it was a feint. Seizing the distraction, Harry pivoted and unleashed a powerful Expelliarmus toward Remus, forcing him to dodge.
In that split second, Harry saw his chance. With a sharp incantation, he conjured thick roots from the earth beneath the field. They shot up like coiling serpents, wrapping tightly around Sirius and Remus, pulling them together in a tangled bind.
“Wha—!?” Sirius yelped, struggling as Remus chuckled at their predicament.
“Nice move, Harry,” Remus said, clearly impressed but helpless without his wand which the vine snatched away.
Sirius shot Harry a mock glare. “You’re going to pay for that!”
Harry grinned, but his focus shifted to Moody, who had closed in on him. The grizzled Auror's spells were relentless, crashing against Harry’s defenses like a storm. Moody’s shield was rock-solid, and his offensive spells crackled with raw power.
But Harry felt that surge again—the powerful magic that had erupted from him before, at the Bones Ball, and here a few weeks before. He didn't shy away this time. He embraced it again.
Focusing intently, he gathered the energy, channeling it into his next spell. With a strong, deliberate swish of his wand, he cast Bombarda Maxima.
The spell struck the ground in front of Moody with explosive force. The earth itself seemed to erupt, sending debris flying and shattering Moody’s shield charm. The blast hurled Moody backward several feet, his usual scowl replaced with surprise as he was flung through the air, landing heavily with a thud.
For a moment, the field fell silent, the only sound was the dust settling around the massive crater. Harry stood, breathing hard, wand still raised. He could feel the last remnants of that raw magic ebbing away, but this time he had channeled it—controlled it.
Moody groaned as he slowly got to his feet, brushing dirt off his robes. “Well, I’ll be damned,” he muttered, limping toward Harry. “That’s some spellwork, Potter. Blasted right through my shield.”
“That's it!” Sirius yelled, still wrapped in roots with Remus.
“Harry, mind letting us out of these roots?” Remus asked softly. “It’s starting to get a bit uncomfortable.”
“Is that your wand, Remus?” Sirius quipped. “You know I don’t swing that way.”
“You could do worse,” Remus shot back.
“I could do better,” Sirius smirked.
Harry laughed at their banter, flicking his wand to banish the roots back into the ground. With another flick, the crater in the field smoothed over, the displaced chunks of earth falling back into place. Sirius approached his godson and clapped him on the shoulder.
“You’ve improved so much” giving him a playful shove. “I think you are at a stage where you could likely beat Remus or I in a real life or death duel” Sirius said before sitting on the ground and admiring the view.
“You’ve a ways to go Potter” Moody said gruffy as he hobbled over. “But your powerful lad, glad you're on our side that's for sure, I’d rather not be on the receiving end of that again!”
“Come, Harry, let’s work on those shielding charms some more,” Remus interjected, his voice cutting through the light banter. He motioned Harry toward the center of the field, where they resumed their usual routine. Harry moved fluidly, deflecting the warm-up spells with ease, fully immersed in his training.
Sirius watched closely, his arms folded as he leaned against a nearby tree, his expression thoughtful. Harry was progressing quickly, far beyond where they expected him to be, but Sirius couldn’t shake the worry gnawing at the back of his mind. It was all well and good in training, but they both knew the real test was coming. And the stakes were higher than ever; many froze in the heat of battle, and a stray spell could kill you as quickly as anything else.
“The boy’s doing good, Sirius,” Moody's gravelly voice came from behind him.
“I know,” Sirius replied, his tone carrying both pride and unease. He glanced sideways at Moody, who stood with his arms crossed, his magical eye spinning lazily, surveying the field as if he could see more than just the present.
Moody took a few steps forward, stopping beside Sirius as they both watched Harry and Remus exchange spells, the clinks and crackles of magic filling the air. “Better than good, I’d say. He’s got instincts... a fighter’s instincts. Reminds me of James.”
Sirius’s jaw tightened slightly at the mention of his best friend. “Yeah, but instinct only gets you so far, doesn’t it?” he muttered. “James was brilliant, but it didn’t stop—”
Moody cut him off with a grunt. “Don’t go down that road, lad. I know it’s not just about skill or even instincts. Luck, timing, and willpower. That’s what it takes. And Potter’s got more willpower than most wizards twice his age.”
Sirius remained silent for a moment, his gaze fixed on Harry, who had just blocked a particularly tricky spell from Remus. His shield flared brightly, a testament to his growing power.
“I just… worry,” Sirius finally admitted, his voice quieter now. “I spent so long watching him from afar, and now that I’m here… I can’t help but feel like it’s not enough. No matter how hard we push him, it’s like the world’s always a step ahead. Voldemort, the Death Eaters, all of it. We’re training him to survive, but he’s going to have to do a hell of a lot more than that.”
Moody grunted again, a deep sound of agreement. “True enough. But worrying won’t change a damn thing. You’ve got to trust him to find his own path when the time comes. And he will. You’ve seen it in him, haven’t you? That spark?”
Sirius glanced at Moody, his expression softening, though his eyes were still clouded with worry. “Are you going soft?” he asked, a teasing edge to his voice.
Moody snorted, his magical eye whirling around to meet Sirius’s gaze. “Soft? You wish. Just speaking the truth. Potter’s tough”
Sirius chuckled, though the hint of concern still lingered in his eyes. “It’s part of the job. To worry I mean”
Moody clapped a heavy hand on Sirius’s shoulder, the weight of it solid and reassuring. “That’s because you care, and that’s good. But don’t let it cloud your judgment. When the time comes, you’ll know what to do. And so will Harry.”
They both turned their attention back to the field, watching as Harry and Remus wrapped up their session, exchanging nods of approval. Harry, winded but grinning, looked more confident than Sirius had ever seen him.
…
Daphne sat by the window in her room, watching the late afternoon sun filter through the trees surrounding the estate. Her thoughts kept drifting back to the ball, to the rush of magic in the air, the way her heart had pounded when Harry had taken her hand during their dance. She hadn’t expected it to feel so… suffocating, the way her magic had come alive..
A soft knock at the door drew her attention. “Come in,” Daphne called.
Her mother entered, a knowing smile playing on her lips as she crossed the room and took a seat beside her daughter. “You’ve been quiet since the ball,” she observed. “Thinking about anything in particular?”
Daphne hesitated for a moment, then gave a slight shrug. “Just… reflecting on everything that happened.”
“Yes, the attack was quite the fright. I don’t think I’ll ever get used to those creatures” her mother replied, her face even. “Your father is even more affected I think, those monsters took alot from him”
Daphne didn’t say anything in response, she knew her uncle Peter lost his soul to a Dementor, he had a been a curse breaker, and a particular tomb they were inspecting had housed a group of dementors within the crypt, he didn’t stand a chance.
“Will he be alright?” Daphne asked eventually, concern for her father evident.
“He will be darling, it's just not a nice memory for him” her mother replied before looking back at her from the window Elizabeth’s eyes sparkled with gentle amusement.
“Spit it out mother”
“I noticed your dance with Harry. You both looked comfortable together, more than I expected. It didn’t look like a … formal dance. Quite the opposite, really” her mother grinned and held her hand up when she noticed what must’ve been horror on Daphne's face “As far as I know, no one whispered a word, especially since Harry danced with a few other girls that night. You were just another lady on his arm”
Daphne glanced at her mother, her expression thoughtful. “Just another lady? Thanks mum”
“You know what I meant”
“Sure that's what you meant” Daphne smiled. “It was a nice dance”
Elizabeth studied her daughter for a moment before her smile softened. “And what about the curse? Did you feel anything more?”
Daphne let out a small breath, leaning back in window seat as she thought back to the dance. “At first, I was nervous I didn’t want to draw attention to us by dancing with Harry as no one is meant to know we are letting him use our estate for training, at the same time watching him dance with other people when I didn’t know his status with them, it felt ..”
“Felt like your magic wanted to crawl out and attack something?” Her mother asked.
“Something like that, but when we started dancing, it felt like I was on fire, my magic was burning bright and giddy. It was there, just beneath the surface, but it didn’t take over. It was like… it calmed down for a while as the dance went on”
Elizabeth’s gaze was steady, her voice gentle as she asked, “And what about how you felt? Did you feel anything when you were with him?”
Daphne paused, her thoughts racing as she tried to find the right words. “I don’t know. It wasn’t just the curse. I felt like… I could let my guard down with him, even for a moment. And that’s rare.”
Her mother nodded, her expression turning more serious. “Harry seems different from the others, doesn’t he? There’s a strength in him, but also a kindness. I can see why you’d feel that way. Given how everyone’s eyes were on him, you wouldn’t know that by his actions”
Her mother was always perceptive, more than most people gave her credit for.
“It’s not like I… you know, feel anything serious,” Daphne added quickly, her cheeks warming. “It’s just that I didn’t expect it to be that way, that’s all.”
Elizabeth chuckled softly, reaching out to brush a lock of hair behind Daphne’s ear. “You don’t have to explain it, darling. Sometimes things just happen, and you don’t need to understand them right away. But I’m glad you’re listening to yourself.”
Daphne gave a faint smile. “So… it didn’t look like anything was amiss?”
“Not at all,” Elizabeth replied, her voice filled with quiet reassurance. “You were two young people dancing. Harry is well-known; if someone saw you and made a big issue of it we would’ve known by now. For what's it's worth, he looked at you differently from everyone else.”
“No, he didn’t.” Daphne brushed her off.
“Your father was having fits, so yes, yes, he did” Elizabeth chuckled. “It's a troubling time for a father, watching his little girl grow up and interact with boys.”
“Little sexist, isn’t it? Would he be bothered if I were a boy?”
“Likely not, at least not as much. But if you were a boy, I would be fretting the same”
“Why?”
“He knows how most boys think, I know how most girls think, even without a curse and you want to protect your children from that” she winked, earning a grin from Daphne. “Also Miss Chang was positively livid from what I saw”
“I didn’t see her?”
“She seemed to react badly enough when Harry arrived with Miss Tonks, then dancing with Susan, Lisa and then you I think she had enough”
“I did hear the rumours about her and Harry”
“What ones?”
“Most were outrageous, though everyone knows about Madam Puddifoots. I think the most gossiped was Harry getting her pregnant in the broom closet,” Daphne replied.
“In a school which flings couples apart if they do anything more than snog?”
“Yes- Wait how do you know- Don’t answer that.” Daphne blushed.
“We get a letter Daphne, what we can expect the school to do and the rules stuff like that” Elizabeth chuckled, though Daphne had a hard time believing that was the only reason she knew. “How do you know?” her mother asked with a raised eyebrow.
“Pansy and Draco tried something last year, didn’t go well apparently,” she replied.
Daphne exhaled slowly, feeling some of the tension she hadn’t even realized she’d been holding melt away. “I guess… it wasn’t as bad as I thought it’d be, the dance anyway. I just don’t know what I do about the curse and Harry, its clear its him and I don’t even know how I actually feel about him”
Elizabeth smiled softly, rising to her feet. “Well, just keep being yourself, Daphne and keep doing what you're doing but maybe get there before your sister does …”
“It would be my luck that her curse picks Harry’s too wouldn’t it” Daphne muttered, Astoria was at least a year or two away from her’s coming into effect at least.
As her mother left the room, Daphne sat there for a moment longer, her thoughts lingering on the dance, on Harry, and on the strange sense of calm she had felt that night. Maybe her mother was right. Maybe just act natural, it wasn’t the worst person her curse could pick. He was attractive, had a quick wit, seemed a very quick study based on their sessions, and he was in pretty good shape and kind … what more could she want?
She had goosebumps as she recalled the first time they touched, naturally the dance was respectful and modest so her body never actually touched his, but she could feel that his shoulders and chest had filled out nicely. She blushed at that thought, she was not some uncouth primal creature.
Now came the challenge of just acting natural, when ones magic wanted to seemingly latch itself to another.
……
The next chapter will be us finally returning to Hogwarts!