Prologue - December 2020
Prologue:
British Auror Office // Head Auror Harry Potter's Office. The 23rd of December, 2020
Many people would say that Harry Potter was one of the greatest Aurors to ever live. Personally responsible for the investigation and arrest of the likes of Corban Yaxley, Jason Avery, and Tiberius and Theodore Nott. For his work as an investigator, people will write about his uncanny ability to solve and prove more cold cases than few others would ever attempt. For his leadership, war testimonials would describe him as greatly respected amongst his peers, elders, and enemies. For his genuine sense of justice to the perpetrators and victims, people will remember him as the man who ensured some of the thought-to-be worst death eaters got their time in court. As well as, of course, both the temporary and permanent death of He-Whom-Must-Not-Be-Named (or Voldemort, as he and a handful of others would insist upon).
In many biographies and history books, it will be noted that Harry Potter was an exceptionally fair and justice-oriented man.
And as Nina Torrington, trainee auror – Class of 2019, clutching a small vial of blood with a very, very recognizable name enchanted across its label and leading an unnaturally pale-faced Draco Malfoy to her Superior's office, she desperately hoped it was true, if only for the sake of her job.
Everyone in the office knew of the large cabinet in their head's personal office, filled almost entirely with dead-end leads and suspect evidence for his missing son. She continued on, headless of the two old WANTED Lestrange posters she passed, of the curious looks on her coworker's faces, and to her own walking, as she promptly fell over Potter himself as he left his office.
She snapped back into awareness as the man caught her by her uniform robes and stood her up without harm. He opened his mouth, presumably to ask the ever-polite question of "Still standing Trainee?" before he caught a glimpse of the pale-faced Malfoy standing behind her.
Her boss seemed aware of the implied urgency of a visit from Draco Malfoy, the 'reformed' Deatheater, and instead released her with a head nod towards the wall beside his office door, the implication to stand guard understood even to the trainee.
Auror Potter brought the Malfoy criminal into his office, and Nina stood guard.
-x-x-x-x-x-
Ginny Potter was a war hero and leader in her own right, as well as a former English Quidditch player and current newspaper columnist. She would be remembered in history as Ginny Weasley and Ginny Potter to a long line of decedents that would follow her and her children.
Right now, however, two of said children are probably thinking of her as rather annoying and frustrating to be around.
James had never liked Christmas that much, especially as he grew older - and instead of days of running around and making garlands with his cousins, he was forced to spend the Holiday season dealing with the annual state of mourning and frenzied searching that befalls his parents close to the anniversary of his brother's abduction and likely murder. Now, he gets it. He does. At least more than his little sister and other cousins, who only remember him as an imaginary childhood playmate or as a scary story about what happens when you have too destructive accidental magic.
He tries, quite valiantly, in his opinion, to repress the resentment growing in his chest as he looks back at the kitchen clock. Merlin, nearly half-past five, so much for being home early to help decorate.
He glanced at his mother through the doorway into the front room, trying to busy herself with the boxes of treasured ornaments and spreading the tree branches. Her mouth was downturned in quiet disappointment at both her late husband and distracted daughter. Lily seemed as oblivious to her mother's plight as ever. Her face buried in some adventure book Rose had given her as an early present.
He clenched his jaw and slammed his Defense book shut, uncaring that the sound made his distracted mother and sister jump. He scowled then, looking where he had spilled the now cold mug of tea his mom had brought him when he was getting ready, and trudged up to his room, bitter hearted.
-x-x-x-x-x-
Suddenly alone with his best friend, Scorpius Malfoy had to repress his own shock. His father's hurried footsteps and uncharacteristically forceful demand to not leave the room echoed in his ears. He turned away from the still closing door to look at Cor, who hadn't said anything besides a quiet, somber 'oh' since his father held his chin and said, "Potter- you're Albus Potter. I'd recognize that face before my own, even with different scars."
He hadn't even seemed aware of his dad's questions, staring blankly at the older man even as Scorpius' father had taken blood from his palm, even as he had hurriedly started explaining about Aurors, and the war and kidnapping and –
Scorpius was still staring at Cor, trying desperately to figure out how to get him out of the panic he just knows is coming. His chest ached in sympathy for his friend's suffering— when the boy lifted his hand.
Corvus touched his lip, where a thick stream of Red began flowing from his nose. They both stared— briefly, uncomprehendingly, at the liquid as it dripped onto the polished wood floor.
Before Corvus' eyes rolled into the back of his head, and he collapsed.
-x-x-x-x-x-
Scorpius yells for the elves, Draco floos the Ministry for Magic, Ginny vanishes spilled tea, and Harry stands next to his desk, frozen with heart-stopping realization.
Albus Potter lays on the stone floor of Malfoy Manor, his organs faltering and his left hand slowly being covered by rotting, foul darkness.