Chapter 18
Theo was feeling annoyed and frustrated.
Neville had gone home in order to visit his parents and Blaise wouldn’t stop laminating how much he missed the other boy. Blaise had told him about the trip to St. Mungos and how Neville’s parents seemed to like him. Unfortunately, Neville was all Blaise wanted to talk about. Theo couldn’t wait until Neville returned just so he could deal with Blaise. Don’t get Theo wrong, Blaise is his best friend, but he could wear out the patience of a saint.
Theo was also frustrated that he had not found anything about the Aquatic Lion. He had searched the library high and low for even a hit of a reference, but nada. He was currently writing out letters to various libraries and bookstores, even a few that were out of the country, to see if maybe he would find his answer elsewhere.
He couldn’t understand where it had come from and why. Why now? Was it due to the Dark Lord’s return or because war was inevitable? Was it around during the last war then? He had so many questions and no answers.
Theo had wondered if maybe the Aquatic Lion would be able to answer some of his yes or no questions. The creature seemed rather intelligent after all. The only issue with that was Theo had yet to cross paths with it since the time he and Blaise saw it. They had gone out numerous times with no luck. He wondered if it was as Neville said and it would only come out to protect students or if it left.
With a sigh, Theo made his way to the owlery to send his letters.
--*--
Hermione was angry. She couldn’t stand Ronald Weasley anymore. He kept refusing to do his homework and study. As a result his grades were failing and Professor McGonagall was coming down on her about it. She tried but he wouldn’t listen to her. It was like without Harry he couldn’t even be convinced to even do the bear minimum.
He was going to fail out and ruin everything.
She couldn’t believe that the Headmaster expects her to marry someone like that. Ron had no appreciation for learning in any way. Besides being a good strategist, he was useless and tended to hinder their plans more often than not. He was never going to make it into the Auror Croup and if by some miracle he did, he wouldn’t last long. He was too lazy and only wanted the prestige of it.
It was unacceptable. Hermione was to become the Minister of Magic and bring the Wizarding World out of its stagnant ways. She couldn’t do that with such a failure by her side. She would have to find someone better and speak to the headmaster about it.
For now though, Hermione was going to have to take drastic measures.
She took out a piece of parchment and began writing a letter.
Dear Mrs. Weasley…
--*--
The Great Hall went silent seeing a red howler letter heading towards none other than Ron Weasley.
“RONALD WEASLEY!
HOW DARE YOU NOT DOING YOUR SCHOOL WORK! I AM ABSOLUTELY DISGUSTED! YOUR TEACHERS HAVE BEEN INFORMING ME OF YOUR CURRENT BEHAVIOUR. DON’T YOU MAKE ME COME THERE TO START SUPERVISING YOU, YOUNG MAN! YOU ARE TO BECOME AN AUROR! I EXPECT YOUR GRADES TO MATCH!
Oh, and Ginny dear, congratulations on your current grades.”
The letter ripped itself apart when it was done.
Ron face burnt crimson in both anger and embarrassment as the whispers began.
--*--
Harry had always loved flying, no matter who he was. There was always something freeing about being high in the sky and not stuck on the ground. He loved flying on a broom, but nothing compared to flying by your own means.
His wings flapped in the air as he flew toward Malfoy Manor. The wind whipping and dark clouds surrounded him. Thunder rolled and lightning flashed; with every beat of his wings the storm grew as he moved toward his destination.
The muggles and even most witches and wizards, would just assume it was an unusual storm, but in no way magical. It was after all spring and rain in the United Kingdom was all too common. This particular storm was the fiercest that had been seen for a while and covered a good 200km with its foreboding clouds.
After reaching his destination, Harry only grew the storm more. Wind picked up speed, rain drops grew and were even more frequent, thunder boomed across the land, and lightning began striking the ground more frequently.
Once he was satisfied, Harry landed outside the manor’s wards. He sent a bit of his own magic at the wards in a sort of knocking motion. He figured it was a good way to inform Malfoy of his arrival.
Harry wasn’t stupid. He did know the man was probably attempting to bring him to the Dark Lord in order to gain favour. This however did work in favour to Harry, this way not only did he not have to break into Malfoy Manor, but he would also be led to Voldemort so no trying to find him in the large manor.
He watched as the older Malfoy strolled towards him, cane in hand as he used magic to keep the weather from touching him. Once he was closer Harry could see the calm polite façade, but his eyes were filled with glee.
“Mr. Potter, I am glad you came.” Malfoy said in greeting.
“How could I let the opportunity pass?” Harry smiled, the rain soaking him.
Thunder roared.
“I believe it would be best to speak inside.” With a subtle hand motion, the wards opened allowing Harry to enter. “Follow me.”
Harry dutifully followed.
There was no idle chit chat made between the two men. Malfoy was slightly lost in his excited thoughts; he had thought it would be much harder to bring the Boy-Who-Lived to his Lord. Harry categorized everything, paying the utmost attention to his surroundings.
The manor was what he would expect of the Malfoys. Inside it was gaudy and screamed that they were wealthy. His shoes squeaked with every step and water was tracked throughout the house. Harry was a little surprised Malfoy didn’t say anything.
As they came up to a set of double doors, Malfoy whirled around. He was about to speak before he stopped. He eyed Harry and his eyes trailed to the water trail behind him.
“Mr. Potter, may I cast a drying charm on you? This may be a long talk and I’m sure you will be more comfortable dry.”
“Oh, I’m sorry.” Harry spoke as if he truly didn’t realize the mess he made. “Here let me.” Harry waved his hand and now not only was he dry but so were the floors.
Malfoy paused trying to conceal his shock of the wandless magic.
“Oh, it seems I forgot something.” Harry grinned at the man.
Before Malfoy knew what had happened, he had fallen unconscious.
Harry levitated him out of the way, towards the wall near the doorway. “Sorry about this, Lucy, but I couldn’t have you getting in the way.”
Harry, in dramatic fashion, slammed the doors open with a brief push of his magic as he strode into a grand ballroom. In the centre of said room, was a throne. In that throne sat no-nose Voldemort.
Surprisingly there were no other Death Eaters around.
“Harry Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived comes to me.” Voldemort’s voice rings out.
Thunder rattles the windows in the room.
“When the clouds roar with fury, what was once lost, now sane.” Harry pitches his voice and with the help of magic, his voice echoes ominously around the room.
Voldemort frowns before grinning. “Are you saying you’ve come to me as you have found your sanity?” he laughs.
“No, but you will.” Harry states, subtly sending an old dark curse towards the Dark Lord. Not noticing or expecting Harry to do wandless magic, the spell hits its target.
Voldemort went rigid before losing all control of his body as it went slack. As he was sliding off his throne Harry levitated him into the air. He then began to set up the ritual.
He summoned ash from the fireplace and created a heptagon, as seven was a magical number. He then smudged his finger with some ash before using it to draw the necessary runes. Once he was done, he sat up and smiled at his work.
Standing up he looked at Voldemort who was floating helplessly in the air. “I hope you don’t mind the weather.” Harry told him, before vanishing all of the windows allowing the storm inside.
In normal circumstances the storm would have wiped away the ritual but since the storm and the ritual were both created by Harry it was not, if anything the storm amplified the magic. Harry sighed in pleasure as magic caressed his skin as it danced around the room.
He lowered Voldemort in the middle of the heptagon before he began pulling the two Horcruxes he had, the diary and locket, out of his satchel and placing them in the heptagon, one on either side of Voldemort.
“We will just be using these two artifacts as they are the ones I have and the diary contains the most of your soul anyways.” Harry explained to the immobilised Dark Lord. Harry then placed a few little branches of an acacia tree on Voldemort to represent the immortality of the soul.
Standing outside the heptagon Harry closed his eyes and began to chant in ancient Greek. The wind which already whipped around the room grew more powerful, the throne was sent smashing into a wall, as was most things. Rain was beginning to flood the room, however the water itself did not pool around Harry and the heptagon. The floor stayed blissfully dry.
As the thunder roared one last time, Harry stopped and so did the storm.
Opening his eyes Harry looked down at the unconscious body of Tom Riddle.