The Pull of Destiny
Harry's wings rustled with barely contained energy as he paced the ritual chamber, each step taking him closer to the door before he forced himself to turn back. The pull toward Wiltshire had become almost unbearable now that he'd acknowledged it fully, a constant tug at his core that made every moment of delay feel like physical pain. The marble floors of Gringotts, usually cool and impersonal, seemed to vibrate with the excess magic rolling off his agitated form.
"We need to move quickly," he said, running a hand through his hair in frustration. "But we can't just storm Malfoy Manor. The Ministry's watching..." His voice trailed off as another wave of emotion crashed through the bond—fear this time, sharp and acrid, followed by a bone-deep weariness that made his chest ache.
"The Malfoys still have allies in the Ministry," Sirius pointed out, his voice stronger now that he'd had time to process the returned memories. He leaned forward in his chair, grey eyes sharp despite his exhaustion. "And enemies. We need to know which is which before we make any moves. Especially after Lucius's... controversial acquittal."
"The trials were a farce," Remus added quietly, his own recovered memories adding bitter context to his words. "So many of the Wizengamot members were under subtle compulsion charms. The verdicts went exactly as Dumbledore wanted—some freed to serve his purposes, others condemned to maintain his image of justice."
Another wave of loneliness crashed through the mate bond, making Harry's wings snap out defensively. The force of it nearly drove him to his knees, scales rippling along his wingspan in response to his mate's distress.
"Harry!" Remus moved to steady him, concern evident in his amber eyes. "What's wrong?"
"They're giving up," Harry whispered, horror creeping into his voice. "I can feel it—they don't think anyone's coming for them. They've been alone so long..." His wings trembled with the effort of staying still. Through the bond, he caught flashes of a familiar room, once luxurious but now feeling more like a prison. "The Ministry's surveillance isn't just watching the Manor. It's trapping them there."
Sirius pushed himself up from his chair, swaying slightly as his body still adjusted to the flood of recovered memories. "Then we need to be strategic about this. The House of Black still carries weight, even after everything. And with your inheritance..." He gestured at Harry's impressive wings. "You're Lord Potter-Black now, with the power of two Ancient and Noble Houses. Plus your status as heir to the founders..."
"Power isn't enough," Harry cut in, pacing faster now. "Dumbledore had power too. Look what he did with it." His wings cast shifting shadows on the walls as he moved, their span seeming to grow with his agitation. "We need to be different. Better."
"We will be," Remus assured him, his steady presence a counterpoint to Harry's restless energy. "Starting with gathering the right allies. People whose memories are returning, people who've shown signs of breaking free from compulsion charms. There's been movement in the shadows..."
"The Longbottoms first," Sirius suggested, warming to the plan. "Augusta's been making noise in the Wizengamot about memory tampering. Three separate sessions now where she's demanded investigations into past trials and testimonies. And she's got influence with the old families."
"And the Bones family," Remus added thoughtfully. "Amelia's always been fair, and Susan's been writing some surprisingly pointed articles for the Prophet about magical inheritance rights. Almost like she knows something's coming..."
Harry's enhanced senses caught the slight tremor in Remus's voice, the way both men were fighting their own instincts to protect him. Their recovered memories were still raw, their guilt at years of enforced absence palpable in every concerned glance and aborted protective gesture.
His wings curved forward, encompassing them both in a gesture of acceptance and forgiveness. The scales along the edges gleamed with subtle iridescence, his inherited magic responding to his desire to comfort his family. "I trust you," he said simply. "Both of you. That's why I know you'll build the support we need while I take care of my mate."
Through the bond, he sent another pulse of reassurance, stronger this time. The answering flicker of hope, though faint, steeled his resolve.
"The Greengrasses might be worth approaching," Sirius mused, relaxing slightly under Harry's wing. "Daphne's been seen at Augusta's gatherings lately. And the Zabinis—Blaise has been unusually vocal about pureblood traditions being 'corrupted' in recent decades."
"Theodore Nott as well," Remus suggested. "He's been researching magical bonds in the Department of Mysteries. Very focused on how they can be manipulated or blocked..."
"Lord Potter-Black," Griphook spoke up from near the door, his sharp teeth gleaming in what might have been a smile. "Gringotts stands ready to provide evidence of financial and magical manipulation when the time comes. The goblins remember our true allies." He paused, then added significantly, "And we have extensive records of certain... unauthorized withdrawals from multiple vaults over the past decades."
Harry nodded gratefully, his wings shifting to accommodate this new ally. "Thank you. We'll need every piece of evidence we can get." He turned back to his godfather and Remus. "Start with the families who've already shown signs of breaking free. But be careful—we don't know how deep Dumbledore's influence ran, or who might still be loyal to his vision."
"We'll be subtle," Remus promised, his amber eyes glinting with lupine cunning. "Years of living as a werewolf taught me how to gauge people's true intentions. And I've noticed patterns in who's breaking free first—people with creature blood or inherited magic seem more resistant to long-term compulsion."
"The Black family has ways of checking for compulsion charms," Sirius added with a grim smile. "Ways the old manipulator never knew about. Dark magic, some would say, but just old magic. Magic that remembers what it means to be truly free."
Another pull through the bond, another wave of despair that wasn't his own. This time Harry caught a clearer impression—pale hands gripping a windowsill, watching Ministry officials patrol manicured grounds that had become a beautiful cage. His wings spread wide, responding to his mate's distress.
"I have to go," he said, moving toward the door. "Now. Before—" He broke off, unable to voice his fear of what might happen if he delayed too long.
"Wait," Sirius called, pulling something from his robes. "Take this. It's a Black family artifact—helps mask magical signatures. Might help you get past those Ministry watchers without setting off alarms."
Harry accepted the small silver pendant, feeling old magic pulse against his palm. "How did you—"
"Remembered where I'd hidden it as soon as those memory charms broke," Sirius explained with a hint of his old mischievous grin. "Amazing what comes back when the blocks are gone."
"And take this," Remus added, pulling a worn piece of parchment from his pocket. "I've been keeping track of Ministry patrol patterns around certain... sensitive locations. Force of habit from the war, but it might be useful now."
Harry's throat tightened at their support, at how quickly they'd moved from processing their trauma to helping him. His wings curved forward one last time, offering protection and acceptance in equal measure.
"Go," Sirius urged, understanding in his eyes. "We've got this part. Your mate needs you."
Harry paused at the threshold, looking back at his found family. "When I bring them home... be ready. No matter who they are, no matter what anyone thinks of them... they're mine to protect now." His voice deepened on the last words, something ancient and powerful threading through his tone.
The fierce possession in his voice seemed to resonate with something in his inherited magic. His wings shimmered with power, scales catching the light like armour. The very air seemed to vibrate with the strength of his claim.
"We'll be ready," Remus promised softly. "And we'll have allies waiting. Real ones this time, not pawns in someone else's game."
Without waiting for further response, Harry strode from the chamber, following the pull of the mate bond. Behind him, he could hear Sirius and Remus already planning their approach to potential allies, their voices mixing with Griphook's as they discussed evidence and timing.
But Harry's focus had narrowed to a single point in Wiltshire, to a presence that called to him with increasing desperation. He clutched the silver pendant in one hand, Remus's parchment in the other, his wings half-spread and ready for flight.
I'm coming, he projected through the bond, letting his determination and protectiveness flow freely. Hold on just a little longer. You're not alone anymore.
The answering pulse of emotion was stronger this time—surprise, disbelief, and underneath it all, a tiny spark of hope that felt like sunrise after an endless night. Harry's wings trembled with the need to take flight, to follow that bond to its source and never let go.
It was time to end the loneliness. Time to break the last chains of manipulation and control. Time to show the wizarding world that true power came not from schemes and compulsions, but from the strength of bonds freely chosen and fiercely protected.
Wait for me, he sent through the bond one last time. I know who you are. I know what they did to us. And I swear on my magic, it ends today.