A Godfather's Promise

“Harry Potter” belongs to J.K. Rowling

AN: I want to extend my thanks to the great members of my Discord server, who have helped me with the writing of the chapter itself, but also re-igniting my passion for this.

Special thanks go to Meneldur, who has not only aided me with the crafting and editing of this chapter, but also the story as a whole.

With that out of the way, please enjoy the chapter!

“Dialogue”

‘Thoughts’

“Foreign Language”

A Godfather’s Promise

Chapter XXI: Danger Calling

Harry saw the green ball going to his right. For many, it would be almost impossible to reach it, but he prided himself on his fitness. Harry’s long legs helped him cross to the other side of the tennis court quickly, and just as the ball was about to leave the court, he extended his arm, racket in hand, to bat it back to the other side. His opponent was stunned for just a second, enough for him to miss the ball by a few inches.

“Score for Harry!” said another teenage boy. “Better try harder next time, eh, Justin?”

Justin Finch-Fletchley grumbled and wiped the sweat on his brow. “Good one, Harry. How about a rematch?”

Harry shook his head. “Afraid not. I have a schedule.”

He and Justin had gone to the same school growing up, even if they’d not exactly been friends. It wasn’t until they both got accepted to Hogwarts that they really said anything to each other, and even then, only pleasantries. That was until the ordeal with the basilisk. Since then, Justin had always acted like he owed Harry a favor.

On the stands sat Justin’s Etonian friends, conversing in elegant accents about their families’ holdings, enterprises, and other financial ventures. They were a good lot, if a bit posh. Justin had introduced him to them and they accepted him fairly quickly. Of course, they had no knowledge about magic, or Hogwarts, merely that Harry went to the same exclusive school that Justin went to.

“Going off, are you, Harry?” asked one of Justin’s friends. Arnold was his name, if Harry’s memory didn’t fail him.

“I’m afraid so,” replied Harry with a wave. “I’m going to be quite busy this summer. Do forgive me if I’m not around.”

“It’s understandable,” said another. This time, Harry’s memory did fail him. “Well, we are always here for Justin’s friends. Don’t hesitate to join us when you’re back.” Harry nodded and gave them a final wave. He was about to leave the club when Justin intercepted him at the entrance.

The Hufflepuff kept his proud posture despite the nervousness in his eyes. “Is it true then? About the Dark Lord? Don’t get me wrong. I don’t doubt that you’re lying, just… are you sure you weren’t under an illusionary spell or something?”

Harry chuckled sarcastically. “I felt his face with my fist. There was nothing illusory about it. That’s why I won’t be around much. We have to prepare while he’s weak.”

Justin nodded slowly, looking at the ground. “Well, you know you won’t have to worry about me. There’s really only one side I can go with, being Muggle-born.”

“You don’t have to fight if you don’t want to.”

“I know,” sighed Justin, turning back to his friends, “but I don’t need to tell you that most of the time, you don’t get a choice in the matter. Fights come to you.”

“Correct,” agreed Harry, holding out his hands. “I’ll see you at school, mate. Take care of yourself.”

After saying his farewells, Harry stepped out of the club and into the streets. It was strange, not having to wear sweaters or coats as he did for most of the year in Scotland. The Berkshire summer sun prickled his skin, a contrast to the biting winds of Hogwarts. Noises from people and cars surrounded him. He could easily disappear into the crowds; it was one of the reasons Sirius raised him here, away from wizards, witches, and intrigue.

Harry took a deep breath as he entered Sirius’ house. It was a quaint, two-storied building that easily blended in with the rest of the neighborhood. It had its own garden, a kitchen, a living room, and two bedrooms. His godfather could have easily purchased something far more lavish than this, but there was little need to. Plus, Sirius wanted to remain as hidden as possible.

Silently, Harry ran up the stairs and into the shower. Sirius was not home, had not been for over a week now. He’d gone over to Grimmauld Place in London, where he’d grown up; the home of House Black after they’d lost their manor hundreds of years ago.

Not that Harry was upset about his godfather’s absence. Quite the contrary in fact, and he didn’t have to wait long for the reason why.

His heart jumped when he heard the doorbell. It took all his willpower not to run at full speed towards the entrance. Keeping the goofy smile off his face on the other hand, was impossible.

Harry barely had time to admire her, dressed far more casually than she had at Hogwarts. Fleur immediately launched herself towards him, laying kiss after kiss on him. Her scent had not changed from that intoxicating flowery perfume.

“Beautiful,” gasped Harry the moment Fleur gave him a moment to breathe. “You’re like a dream.”

She giggled. “A dream no longer, Maitre.”

He pulled her in for another kiss, deep and passionate. He didn’t realize until now how much he had missed her, how much life she injected into him. The past weeks he’d been trying to get back to his old hobbies. It didn’t work anymore, not without her.

After what felt like hours, they finally let go of each other. Harry waved his hand ceremoniously across the room. “Welcome to our humble abode, beautiful. Hope it’s up to your standards.”

Fleur studied the room with a clinical eye. Harry knew that there were about a thousand criticisms that were just waiting to stream out of her mouth, yet she held her tongue, her lips moving instead to give him one of her seductive smiles, and ran her hand over his chest.

“We are staying ‘ere for a few weeks, oui? Zen we go to your manor?”

“That’s the plan.”

“Bien!” Fleur took several miniaturized suitcases out of her pockets and laid them on the floor. Using her wand, she brought them back to their original size and quickly set upon unpacking. Less than half of them were filled with normal clothes, and the great majority were made up completely of fetish attire.

“Oh, my babies! I’m so sorry for keeping you locked in ze dark for so long! I promise zat eet will not ‘appen again!” She grabbed a sky-blue latex blouse and gently rubbed it against her cheek. “What is zat? You want me to wear you? Oui, oui! I will oblige!”

Harry barked a laugh. “Should I feel jealous of some clothes, beautiful?”

Fleur scoffed playfully. “Zis is not a simple matter of clozzing, mon chéri. Eet is a way of life! I cannot go back anymore!” She held another piece, this time red rubber lingerie. “Besides, don’t tell me you prefer your Fleur in plain, boring panties. Zis pleases you better, non?”

“What pleases you, pleases me.” He watched intently, feeling himself harden as Fleur stripped completely naked and donned her kinky outfit. “Especially when you look stunning in it.”

She smiled and went towards the mirror, checking for any imperfections, straightening the latex, shining it where it was dull. After choosing a pair of heels, she walked back to him. “Well zen, ‘ow about you show your Fleur around ze place. Sun is rare in zis island and I wish to make ze most of eet.”

Harry frowned. “Go out? With you like that?”

With a wave of her wand, Fleur’s clothes changed in front of him, turning into normal versions. Curious, he touched them, and still felt the slippery rubber: an illusionary charm.  “Nobody needs to know, Maître… nobody except you” She turned it off for him and only for him. Everybody else would see her wearing common, if classy clothes.

With a grin, Harry held out his arm. “Well, then. Let me show you around town.”

He took her all around the town, to the many shops and restaurants that were in the main streets, as well as the park. To his surprise, she had little criticism to say about the places when compared to Hogsmeade and Hogwarts. Not once did she complain about the weather, only mentioning that it was still better in France.

“That’s my old school, before Hogwarts,” Harry pointed at a building, empty due to the summer vacation. “And I used to ride my bike over there. I think they still sell ice cream and pastries to kids. Pricy, but worth it.” He pointed at another building, smaller, with Chinese characters in the sign. “That’s Master Zheng’s martial arts school. Even though he’s getting old, I bet he can still kick my ass without breaking a sweat.”

He was so engrossed in telling Fleur about his childhood that he didn’t notice the stares she was getting. Most just stood there and drooled, others approached her for a moment, but chickened out at the last minute and continued to stare wordlessly. One guy, though, more muscles than brains, did manage to swagger forth to her.

“Hey there. I think I lost my future girlfriend. How ‘bout you help me find her?” he asked, chuckling at his own line.

“Oh… non. I’m sure you will find ‘er in ze clubs… ze gentlemen’s clubs.” responded Fleur.

The guy apparently didn’t get the message. He reached out for her hand. “C’mere, pretty bird.”

With a hand faster than lightning, Harry snatched the man’s arm and held it tightly. “Hey, mate. Why don’t you bugger off?” he growled.

The guy glared at him and made his other hand into a fist. Harry was ready for a fight until the man went glassy eyed and his mouth dropped. Fleur’s allure was taking effect.

“Go now, leetle boy. I am only interested in men,” said Fleur. The man dumbly nodded and walked away. Due to the allure, even more stares settled on them. “Sorry about zat, mon chéri.” Her voice was nervous, as if it was all her fault.

“Don’t be,” assured Harry, holding her waist possessively and sending a glare to any other man that might even think of approaching. He hated that she felt this way. “It’s their fault, not yours. How about we go back home? Nothing here tastes anywhere as good as what you’re able to make. Then we can catch a movie… or,” he whispered in her ear, “we can skip straight to the fun part.”

She giggled. “Zat sounds wonderful, mon amour.”

The sun started to set as they walked back to the house. As soon as Harry put his hand on the handle, he went stiff. One of the protective charms had gone off, and Sirius didn’t say he was coming back. He turned to Fleur. “There’s someone inside,” he whispered, taking out his wand. She nodded, took out her own wand, and adopted an aggressive posture.

Harry slowly opened the door and entered, wand first, to see the dimly illuminated entrance. Nothing seemed out of place, and for a moment he felt foolish, but Sirius’ charms never failed, clownish as he may sometimes be.

Quietly, both of them separated. Fleur went to the kitchen while Harry passed through the living room, they peeked out of the windows, and gave a quick look to the bathroom. With a nod, they both went upstairs, the rugged floor muffling their sounds. Harry approached his room, Fleur behind him. Hand over the handle, he turned back and nodded, Fleur nodding back, and he opened the door, fully intent on fighting the intruder. Pink hair was the first thing he saw.

Nymphadora Tonks laughed at them. She was lying on his bed, back against the wall, with one of Harry’s comic books in hand and several other arrayed at her side. She held her arms up sarcastically.

“I yield!” she said with a playful grin.

“Dora?” gasped Harry, his wand still at the ready. A Death Eater may have polyjuiced as Dora to lower his guard.

Dora scoffed and smirked again. “You got me, I’m not Tonks. I am, in fact…” Her features shifted, hair becoming longer and dark, while her assets got bigger and her skin tone went darker. With her wand she transfigured her clothes until she resembled a familiar figure. It was Wonder Woman. She did it again and again: Supergirl, Jean Grey, Emma Frost, Batgirl, Poison Ivy, and finished with Black Cat. “It’s bad luck when you cross paths with the Black Cat!” she quoted, hands crooked into claws, bursting into laughter.

Harry chuckled. “Alright, Dora. You’ve made your point. Just had to check. Better to be paranoid than to be dead.”

“Oh, no. Another Moody,” sighed Dora, returning to her normal form and clothes. She was donning a denim skirt, a Weird Sisters shirt, and a pair of flat sandals. Perfect for the summer, but not exactly the thing an Auror hopeful would wear.

“Dora, not to sound rude, but why are you here? I thought you were with the rest of the Order.”

“First of all, I’m not a member of the Order. Something about me being too young.” Dora scoffed. “At least that’s what Molly Weasley said. As for why I’m here, it’s to tell you that the plans have been changed. We are moving you tonight. You have three hours to pack, and then it’s off to London.”

Harry and Fleur looked at each other, saying everything without words, both disappointed that their weeks alone would be cancelled. ‘At least we’ll be alone when we go to Potter Manor. Then we can have all the fun in the world before I go back to Hogwarts.’

“Alright, Fleur is already packed, so give me a few moments.” Both Fleur and Dora went downstairs, not saying a word to each other.

Taking out his trunk, he put in everything he would not miss. Hopefully he would be able to return at some point to get the rest of his stuff. In the trunk went mostly clothes, with some books and notes of spells he’d been researching, as well as a few ingredients to continue his potions experiments. A knock came at his door.

Fleur came inside soon after, shrinking her suitcases again and putting them inside her purse after changing into more practical clothes. “Eet’s a shame. I wanted to spend more time alone wiz you.”

Harry chuckled tiredly. “Me too, and we will, but not today it seems.” He searched underneath his bed for their special trunk. “Besides, we can have our own room in Grimmauld Place.”

“Are you sure Sirius will be alright wiz zat?”

He chortled. “Alright with it? He’ll bloody well encourage it!” He shrunk the trunks and put them in his pockets. “Did Dora go out?”

“Non. She’s in ze kitchen.”

Harry nodded at first, until he had time to process the information. His eyes snapped wide open. “Wait! The kitchen?! Dora is in the kitchen?!”

She gave him an odd look. “Oui. She said she was ‘ungry. What’s wrong with zat?”

A deafening explosion rocked the house. Harry and Fleur immediately ran down the stairs, coughing at the dark smoke emanating from behind the kitchen door. Inside was Dora, black faced with soot. Sheepishly, she turned to them.

“I… I was just boiling some water for instant ramen.”

Harry sighed and turned towards Fleur. “Lesson number one about Dora, beautiful. Never – and I mean never – under any circumstances, let her inside the kitchen.”

Fleur nodded. “Lesson learned.”

Hermione looked at the knot, then back at the picture in the book, checking to see if it was correct. It looked alright, but it didn’t look as uniformly pretty and symmetrical as the one depicted in the photograph. With a sigh, she undid the ropes around her ankles and tried it one more time. Hermione had been at it for hours, trying only with her legs. She couldn’t be bound like the woman in the picture, with her arms behind her back, for obvious reasons.

‘Unless there is a spell out there,’ she mused and shook her head, returning her attention to the length of rope and her feet.

“Hermione!” shouted Evanna’s voice. She jumped, barely suppressing a squeak. “Are you in the basement?”

Hermione had been trying to better control her embarrassment, and yet each time she saw Evanna, nude except for the cuffs and collar, she felt her face grow red. It had been a couple of weeks now, and Evanna figured that since the cat was out of the bag, she could act as she normally did. Normal meaning that she did all the housework without any clothes.

“What are you doing?” asked Evanna, hands on her hips, the way she did when reprimanding Hermione when they were younger, made almost comical by the lack of clothes. “Self-bondage? Hermione, playing all by yourself is dangerous. At least ask me to supervise you.”

Nervously, Hermione nodded. “I was just experimenting with my legs. Nothing dangerous.” She showed her the picture on the book, along with the instruction drawing. “This is how Fleur was tied up when I saw her. I’m guessing it was Harry who did it.”

Evanna looked at it and raised her brows. “A rope harness? Impressive for a teenager.”

“I… erm… I’d like to know what it feels like.” Her voice was strained.

Evanna smirked. “I’ll try my best, just don’t expect me to be as good as Mistress Emily. She’s the real rope master – I’m just the bunny.” She tapped at Hermione’s shirt. “If you want the true experience, you need to feel the rope against your bare skin.”

Slowly, and with shaky hands, Hermione pulled her shirt over her head, then undid her skirt until she was left only in her underwear. She reached for the back of her bra and was about to undo it until Evanna stopped her.

“That should be good enough,” said Evanna with a smile. Hermione gave her an appreciative look. “Now, let’s see if I can do a harness. Raise your hands.”

Soft red rope pressed on the bare skin behind her neck. She gazed at her own reflection in the mirror as Evanna began to pass the long strands below and above her breasts, her waist, and her hips, creating diamond shapes in the center. A blush erupted when Evanna tightened the ropes and Hermione saw that it enhanced the size of her breasts, making them look larger than they actually were.

Evanna took one final strand that hung between her legs and held it uncertainly. After a few seconds, she shook her head. “Best to keep that for another time.” She tied the rope around her hips one last time and secured it with a knot.

Hermione took a moment to admire her own reflection. The way the rope enhanced her body made her look… mature. Puberty had already begun to hit her, yet the last year had been the most intense. Her breasts and hips were growing; her waist narrowing. The large teeth that had once earned her ridicule now settled nicely with the rest. After the care Evanna had put into her hair, it was no longer unkempt, dry and bushy, but wavy and shiny.

She gasped, realizing that her own reflection was telling her that she was no longer a child.

“Do you want to go further?” asked Evanna. Hermione, snapping from her thoughts, looked at the next page that showed the woman with her hands tied behind her back, but not in the way she’d seen in movies. Instead, the arms were made to resemble a square, with the palms of the hand meeting the elbow of the opposite arm.

Hermione nodded and placed her hands behind her back, heart jumping as she felt the soft ropes touching her skin. It was different when it was her hands, without them, she felt completely vulnerable. Evanna finished by attaching the ropes to her harness. Hermione tested it to find out there was no give at all.

“Now, for your legs.”

Rope fused her legs together, at the ankles, the calves, and her thighs. Evanna left her on the marbled floor to struggle. Hermione saw it as a challenge, trying to use her fingers to reach the knots. It was a futile effort, despite Evanna saying that she had little practice, she had obviously picked something up from being tied so often. Finally, she relaxed and realized how tired and sweaty she had become.

Evanna giggled and picked her up, sat on the couch, and placed Hermione head down across her lap. “How do you feel?”

“I feel… helpless. I can’t do anything except struggle,” responded Hermione, fearing that her choice of words would cross Evanna.

Instead, her big sister chuckled. “Exactly. Nothing you can do except relax and enjoy yourself. Let the worries you have been shouldering go to someone else.”

“But that can’t be. I am a student and a witch. I have things to do: work, studies, essays –“

“Yes, but that’s not who you are right now. Right now, you’re not Hermione Granger, brightest student in the world. Right now, you’re a helpless girl, under the control of someone else.”

“I can’t! I need to finish an essay! Then I have to – aah!“ She gasped when Evanna slapped her bottom. Not hard, but enough to leave a little sting.

“You do not. Not right now.” She rubbed the area she had spanked soothingly. “Right now, you are going to relax, and if you do not relax, you’ll get punished.”

Hermione was surprised at how quickly she hung her head and did as she was told. For a moment, she even seemed to forget about everything, especially when Evanna started to hum a song and stroke her hair slowly. Her muscles eased up. Tensions from tests and essays and Dark Lords were slowly and blissfully taken away from her shoulders. It was irresponsible, perhaps, but that barely seemed to matter.

It was fine to forget about it now. It was out of her control.

Time seemed to become meaningless as her worries. Without ability to move her limbs she could only concentrate on a few key things. The feeling of the ropes gently digging into her skin, the way her nipples were hardening, and most worryingly, the way she started to feel a wetness between her legs. Her breathing got heavier, and yet slower, until Evanna finally tapped her shoulder.

“Hermione? Sorry, time’s up. Supper isn’t going to be cooked by itself.”

Hermione was surprised at the sound of her pleading groan. “Alright,” she said, disappointingly. One by one, she felt the knots being undone, and breathed in deeply as the rope around her chest loosened, easing the pressure. Even when she was completely free, she found it difficult to move. When she sluggishly stood up, she looked at herself in the mirror again, blushing at the marks left all over her skin.

“Can we do this at another time?” she asked without thinking.

Evanna sighed. “I can help you a little bit, Hermione. But you have to remember that I am not a dom, not even a switch. I’m a sub through and through. If you really want this, you will have to find your own dom.”

Hermione gave a nod and heard Evanna walk up the stairs. She took one final look at the mirror, feeling shame and pleasure at the same time, and stood when she felt her stomach grumble. She had the chance to continue their conversation at the table.

“So is it always like that? Just give up control? What about the… well, the whipping and all that stuff?” asked Hermione

Evanna grinned. “There’s all sorts of people that get caught into this lifestyle Hermione. Some just keep it at casual kink in the bedroom, others go in deeper, and some even opt to go into the lifestyle completely. I guess I’m one of the latter people. A total surrendering of power. There are all kinds of subs, just as there’s all kinds of doms. What you are and what you like is not something you will find in a book. It’s something you’ll have to find out through experience.”

“I know,” said Hermione, taking a bite of her food.

She was almost ashamed to admit how much she genuinely enjoyed it, and sad that Evanna didn’t want to take it further. It was understandable. Evanna was submissive, and already in a relationship with her parents. It would be complicated and incestuous to go any further. Hermione had to find her own partner, someone who could help her in the journey, someone to support her and understand her.

Deep down, she could only think of one person.

It was a wide townhouse, with Muggle families inhabiting every property despite the worn look of the old buildings. Harry walked through the street, seeing the numbers in front of each door. One, two, three, all the way to eleven, but after that, it skipped to thirteen; the number twelve was missing.

Moody – the real Moody this time – waved his wand and the townhouse got even wider, the Muggles apparently not noticing the shift. Between numbers eleven and thirteen, another house emerged, identical to the rest, except even darker and grimier.

“What do you think?” asked Dora with a grin.

“’Orrendous,” replied Fleur.

Dora laughed. “That’s House Black for you. Though you have to admit, it’s got a nice little gothic look to it. The kind of place some depressed band might take a photo of for their album cover.”

“I ‘ave seen gozzic, and I ‘ave seen depressed bands, and zis is neizzer. Just old, dirty, and ugly,” stated Fleur.

Moody growled. “We can discuss architecture at another time. Go on! Inside! You first, Nymphadora!”

“Don’t call me Nymphadora!” snapped Dora with a glare, her hair turning a violent red.

Fleur giggled, holding onto Harry’s arm. “A sore subject, oui?” she asked, silent enough to not be heard.

Harry grinned. “She never liked her name – demands that everyone call her ‘Tonks’. I always teased her about it, until the name Dora stuck with me. That’s what I call her.”

As soon as they entered, Fleur glared and placed a handkerchief over her nose, and this time it was not just her being snooty. The smell was heavy and damp, with a sickeningly sweet rot to it. The floorboards felt like they were about to crack open, and they groaned with every step. He was about to leave and take Fleur with him until Sirius emerged from a door to hug him.

Sirius grinned, waving his arm about the place. “Guess it’s not the most grandiose thing you’ve ever seen, eh?”

“Now I know why you wanted to move to Berkshire,” agreed Harry.

A figure walked past them, a house elf. He looked at them with spiteful eyes. “A Veela and more blood traitors. My poor Mistress, having her house sullied by the scum that her traitorous son brought. If only Regulus were alive, yes. Regulus was a proper wizard, he was, and a loyal heir.”

“Off with you, Kreacher!” barked Sirius. He looked back at them and shook his head. “The Blacks always resented the loss of their manor. This is what they were left with. You might imagine how bitter they were about living side by side with Muggles.” Sirius glared at the decorations. “I wished I never had to set foot in this place again, and I’m sorry that this is all I have to give you. Potter Manor is much better, I assure you.”

“It’s alright, Sirius. It’s not your fault.”

The grin returned to Sirius. “Now, how about I show you to your room. It’s my father’s old room. The biggest one, and the warmest.” Harry and Fleur nodded appreciatively and climbed the stairs, seeing the rows of elves’ heads mounted on the walls, and walking silently past the portrait of Sirius’ mother. Once they reached the top floor, Sirius opened the door to their room. “Enjoy.” He snickered. “I only ask that you make sure to place a silencing charm at night.”

Harry and Fleur shared a sheepish look and turned towards the room. Like Sirius said, it was quite large, with a king-sized bed and the large windows allowed the rays of the sun to warm the room. Even the smell was mostly gone.

“By the way, Harry. There’s someone you’ll want to meet,” said Sirius as he led them back down the stairs towards the third floor, and into another room.

Inside was something Harry had not seen in over a year. Buckbeak the hippogriff lay on the floor, around him the remains of what was once a richly decorated room, all in tatters now. He looked sad and unmotivated, but at the very least alive.

“Good hippogriff!” congratulated Sirius with a grin. “I like what you’ve done with the place. Such an improvement.”

“So this is where you’ve been keeping him,” said Harry with a grin. He carefully placed a hand on Buckbeak’s back. “Nice to see you again, old friend.”

Fleur entered the room and smiled for the first time since she had entered the place. “Ah, a ‘ippogriff! Such a noble animal.” She didn’t need to ask Buckbeak’s permission to pet him, and the hippogriff seemed to be brought back to life at her sight.

Sirius sighed. “He wants to be free, but if he’s caught by the Ministry, they’ll execute him. We have to keep him here for the time being.”

“We could bring him to Potter Manor,” offered Harry. “You always told me that the wards protected the place from being seen by those that don’t have permission.”

“That’s a pretty good idea,” responded Sirius. “When the Manor detects you, the wards will be reactivated. We still need to remain here for the time being, so that you can be protected at all times by the Order. We’ll go soon. I promise.”

The sound of the entrance door opening again made them walk out of the room to watch as a sea of red hair walked in. Harry knew that shade even before he heard their voices. Only the Weasleys had that color, and in those numbers. It seemed that every single Weasley had come to Grimmauld Place.

“Looks like we’re all finally here,” whispered Sirius, leading them down the stairs just as Dora was trying to discreetly – as far as Dora could be discreet – walk up to one of the rooms. “Where are you going, Nymmie?”

“Molly’s here. Morgana’s saggy tits, I better hide before she tries to pair me up with Bill again!” she whispered loudly.

Sirius chuckled loudly, drawing the attention of everyone to them. Dora sighed and began to walk back down.

Harry quickly studied the newcomers as he walked down. He had only seen Molly and Arthur Weasley a couple of times when they had either left Ron or picked him up from Hogwarts. He had barely said a few words in any encounter. Ron, his estranged friend, he knew, as well as Ginny, the youngest. If her eyes were any indication, she still had a crush on him. The twins he knew best, though they mostly asked him about Padfoot, one of their mischievous idols. Percy was missing, but he did notice another he’d never seen before. Tall, thin, and with long hair. It must be Bill, the oldest of the Weasley children.

As soon as the eyes of the Weasley family settled on them, Harry groaned. Ron’s reaction was the same it had been before, a slight frown at him, followed by drooling at Fleur. Harry realized to his dismay that almost one year had not been enough to garner willpower for him. Ginny was the opposite, a glare at Fleur and a hopeful grin at him.

Bill nodded at him politely with a genuine smile… and turned towards Fleur. He didn’t stare, or drool. He was more discreet about it, but he was undoubtedly eyeing her.

“Harry!” exclaimed Mrs. Weasley. “It’s lovely to see that you are safe and sound! I told Sirius you should have been brought here immediately, and –” She stopped, looking at Fleur. “And you are?” Fleur immediately narrowed her eyes and opened her mouth to retort. Harry was faster.

“This is Fleur Delacour,” Harry said formally, and visibly placed his hand around her waist. “She’s with me.”

Sirius intervened before any other discussion might take place. “Well then, since we’re all here, might as well get one with the meeting, yes?

“Up you go children, to your rooms!” ordered Mrs. Weasley with a wave of her hands. “Oh, and Harry, I prepared a room for you to sleep with Ron.” She pointed at Fleur. “You… well, you may sleep with Nymphadora for the time being.” Fleur glared again, this time along with Dora.

“That won’t be necessary. Their sleeping arrangements have already been made,” said Sirius and before Mrs. Weasley could say another word, he walked into the kitchen, Dora right at his tail. Ron, Ginny, and the twins started to go upstairs. Harry didn’t follow them, instead he waited and walked to the kitchen, Fleur right behind him.

“Harry!” chided Mrs. Weasley. “This is not a meeting for you. You’re still a boy.”

Harry didn’t take notice, taking his place next to Sirius, Fleur sitting beside him. “Right. Tell that to Voldemort.” Everyone flinched at the name.

Along with Sirius, Dora, Molly, Arthur, and Bill Weasley, there was also Moody, standing in the corner, back to the wall, and Remus sitting next to Sirius. The other people Harry had met earlier: Kingsley Shacklebolt, Emmeline Vance, and Hestia Jones. To his surprise, Snape and Dumbledore were also sitting around the table.

“Such arrogance,” drawled Snape. “Speaking his name with such little care. If you do not have the proper fear for the Dark Lord, Potter, then you are a fool.”

“I faced him, Professor. I know how powerful he is, even in his current state. But I reserve fear for the man himself, not his name,” responded Harry. “And yes, I am staying. If you’re going to talk about me, I’d prefer to be present. I don’t take kindly to my fate being decided behind my back.”

Dumbledore sat pensive. “I understand how you feel, Harry… but remember, if you are here then you will be expected to act responsibly. That includes not revealing anything that is said.” He turned towards Fleur. “And you, Ms. Delacour?”

“I am wiz ‘Arry,” Fleur stated simply, reaching below the table to grab Harry’s hand.

Dumbledore nodded. “The Dark Lord has returned,” he stated simply. “I am disturbed that this is something that must be reaffirmed to all of us. Cornelius has retreated into himself, denying reality, and using all his influence in the media and entertainment to force that delusion into the public. We all know it, we all feel it, and everybody is starting to feel it as well.”

“Why?” asked Harry. “Doesn’t Fudge realize that the longer he delays preparation, the worst off he will be?”

“Fear does funny things to people, Harry. Cornelius has never been a brave man. He is a figurehead for stronger men. Stronger men like Cygnus Greengrass or Lucius Malfoy. Oddly enough, this new fear seems to have given Cornelius a cowardly sort of bravery that has helped him stop dancing to Cygnus’ tune for the time being.”

“Fudge only thinks of his own skin,” agreed Shacklebolt, with a deep and yet reassuring voice. “He has closed himself off to only a handful of supporters. Chief among them are Dolores Umbridge and Lucius Malfoy. I imagine Lord Greengrass must be furious at the former. It’s not a mystery why Malfoy keeps his support – more time for his Master to gain power in the shadows. As for Umbridge, I do not know her motivations. She has switched from the Wela to the Protectorate, but we cannot assume for sure that she has joined the Death Eaters.”

“Not every member of the Protectorate is a Death Eater, but every Death Eater is a member of the Protectorate,” grumbled Moody. “It’s safer to assume that they’re all Death Eaters. Do not let your guard down while in their presence.”

Remus coughed. “For the moment, this war remains on the sidelines. Voldemort is still weak and so are his forces. Rookwood, his top strategist, remains in Azkaban, as do most of his strongest supporters. Other factions have not yet fully realized that the Dark Lord is back. I guess Fudge’s blunder is working for us on that front. That gives us time to gain allies of our own.”

“Who are our likely allies?” asked Harry.

“Madam Bones is with us,” Hestia Jones responded promptly. “I know she is just waiting to be freed from Fudge’s leash, until then, she has to follow the orders of the Ministry. If push comes to shove, she and the DMLE will join us.”

Dumbledore turned his gaze towards Remus. “How was your meeting with the werewolf packs? Can we count with any of them?”

Remus pursed his lips. “Fenrir Greyback has already begun his recruitment, and many have joined his call, just as they did last time. The others… they do not wish to join the Dark Lord, but neither are they fond of a society that rejects them. They have no stock in our world. Why should they risk their lives for it? The Dark Lord offers them victims and supposedly equality and freedom; we give them nothing but prejudice. Unless that changes, they won’t give a damn if we burn.”

“I have sent Hagrid to treat with other species that might help us,” said Dumbledore. “I am confident that the centaurs will join us, not so much with the giants.”

With a gentle cough, Fleur drew attention to her. “I am sure I can send for ‘elp wiz my family. Grand-maman is one of ze leaders of ze Veela coven in Marseille, and Papa is well connected wiz ze French magical government. Eef zis Dark Lord manages to conquer ze Isles, France will be next.”

Mrs. Weasley scoffed. “Lot of good that will do. An army of Veela. How will that help us? Sleeping with the enemy so they don’t show up to battle?”

Fleur’s blue eyes turned to raging ice. “I will gladly give you a demonstration of ‘ow ze Veela fight, Madame.” Flickers of fire danced from her fingertips. Harry grabbed her hand again to calm her.

“There is one potential ally that no one has brought up… and he’s the biggest prize of them all,” drawled Snape. “The Dark Lord will try to sway Cygnus Greengrass to his side. Already, many Houses are planning to ask him for his daughters’ hands in marriage. Headmaster, if Lord Greengrass takes up their offer, we will have little chance in the Ministry, even if Fudge is dealt with. He owns most of the property in our world. That is a weapon that can be used against us.”

Dumbledore’s twinkling eyes closed tiredly. “Cygnus will not join us unless we give him something. His support will be costly.”

“And yet, invaluable,” retorted Snape.

“It’s Cygnus who must approach us, not the other way around, for I currently do not know what I can offer him. Until then, we can only hope that he is sensible enough to realize that any profit will turn to ash if Voldemort achieves victory.” Dumbledore closed his eyes again. Harry had never seen him this tired. “Sirius, what are your plans? Will Harry stay here?”

Sirius nodded. “For the time being, this is the safest place, but I plan on finally taking him to Potter Manor. The time has come. Once he enters the grounds and the Manor recognizes his blood, the wards will activate, and welcome him as Lord Potter.”

“No!” screeched Mrs. Weasley. “He is too young for such responsibility!”

“He is old enough, in mind if not in years,” assured Sirius, grinning at Harry and Fleur. “Besides, I’m sure that the future Lady Potter wants to be away from this place to rebuild her fiancé’s home as soon as possible.”

“Lady Potter?! Fiancé?!”

“That is enough for tonight,” announced Dumbledore, standing up from his seat. “We must all return to our missions. Stay safe in these dark times.

With a tired smile, Harry rose and exited the kitchen alongside Fleur before any more interrogations could come. He walked up the stairs and opened the door to their room. “After you, Lady Potter,” he drawled.

Fleur grinned and stepped inside, immediately casting a myriad of charms that enhanced the room. Taking her suitcases from her pocket, she began to unshrink them one by one, finishing with the special one that contained all their toys.

Opening it immediately, Fleur dug inside and felt for the metal collar, smiling as she placed it around her neck and snapped it shut. Crawling to the bed, she beckoned him with a slender finger.

Harry smirked, adding his own charms for good measure, and then joined his love for a much-needed night of perversion.

Tonks sank into the couch, not caring about the rancid smell. Grimmauld Place was blessedly silent for once, and she was going to take full advantage of it.

Despite still not being completely sure about Fleur, right now she was a complete blessing, at least as a deterrent between Molly and the rest of the order, especially her. What had started out as a simple disdain between the Weasley matriarch and the French Veela had almost immediately devolved into outright hostility.

It had all started over food, when Fleur only played with her food and made frowns as she swallowed Molly’s greasy meal. She had taken to making her own meals after that, and it would have ended there if it wasn’t for Molly subtly trying to play matchmaker by assigning Harry to do housework with Ginny. Fleur not only went with Harry at all times after that, but she also magically did the chores with a simple wave of the wand, and then dragged Harry back to their room.

After that… fights broke out over everything. Absolutely everything. One day, Fleur had changed the drapes to a light blue color only for Molly to transform them into a drab brown. Another day, Fleur had decided to decorate a wall with a painting of Aphrodite and that very night, Molly changed it to a portrait of Merlin. When Molly blasted Celestina Warbeck on the radio, Fleur fired back with Serge Gainsbourg. On and on it went. Every day, every hour, every minute.

Slowly, the conflict had bled into the rest of the members. Harry, of course, sided with Fleur, with Sirius tagging along. Tonks agreed with them, not because she liked Fleur, but because there was no way she was going to be on the same side as Molly Weasley.

Ginny, fully on the side of her mother and clearly jealous of the older French witch, had begun to refer to Fleur as “Phlegm” behind her back. Ron just stared, obviously and disgustingly, with his mouth to allow rivers of drool to drop from it. Arthur, bless his pacifist heart, tried his best to stand back and ignore it. The twins found everything to be endlessly amusing, especially because for once their pranks went unnoticed by their mother.

It was Bill that was the most curious of them all. He was not as obvious as his youngest brother about it, but those eyes always seemed to settle on Fleur whenever he thought no-one was watching. In the rare times that Harry was not with her, Bill was always at hand, ready to help her with anything she was doing. After Harry noticed this, he too stayed with Fleur at every moment.

But now… now the house was empty. Molly had gone back to the Burrow for some supplies she’d forgotten, Ron and Ginny in tow. The twins had Apparated away. Bill had gone to Gringotts, Moody was off scouting, Remus had gone to try and convince the werewolves again, Sirius was at the bar, and even Fleur had gone off to the market. All gone, except for Harry, of course. He hadn’t been allowed to leave for almost two weeks.

“I never thought silence could be so precious,” Tonks sighed happily. With a grin, she went to the radio and turned on her favorite station. The Weird Sisters began playing, and Tonks found herself dancing and singing to the tune, at least until she tripped on the floor. Bloody floor! Why was it so uneven? She stood up to dance again, only to be interrupted by footsteps not her own.

Harry paced to and from the main hallway, hands turning into fists as he reached the front door. He stopped, took a breath, and put his fingers on the handle.

“What are you doing?” asked Tonks. Harry snapped his head towards her with a frown. She laughed. His frown was always funny to look at.

“I’m leaving,” he said quickly. “I can’t stand to be in this bloody place. Merlin, I need some blasted sun!”

Tonks shook her head. “You can’t. Remember what Dumbledore said. You can’t – ah!” Her boot fumbled against the foot of a cupboard. Bloody cupboard! It’s not her fault! “Come on, you can help me with things around the house.”

Harry snorted. “Like what? Cleaning another cupboard?”

“Oh, come on!” said Tonks, leading him to the kitchen, where a pile of dirty dishes laid by the sink. “We can have loads of fun just sitting here. Let’s start by washing everything to make it ready for lunch.” She picked up a dish, but before she could place it in the sink, it slipped from her fingers and crashed to the floor.

“Great job, Dora,” chortled Harry.

“Shut it!” Bloody dish! It’s its fault for being oily! She was not clumsy!

There was a note by the main table. Harry immediately picked it up. “What’s this?”

“Oh. That’s just a list for supplies. The twins are supposed to get them from Diagon Alley… when they bother to show up at least.”

Quickly, Harry folded it and placed it in his pocket. “No need. I’ll be getting them.”

“Harry! You’re not supposed to go outside!”

“And you’re not supposed to be in the kitchen, but that isn’t stopping you.”

Tonks made a face and turned her hair red. “Why do you people make such dumb rules for me? I can come and go in the kitchen just fine!” Her foot caught the table’s leg, causing it to tumble, sending all the plates crashing into the floor. Bloody table!

A laugh erupted from Harry again. “Come and get out of the kitchen before you manage to blow up London.” He walked to the fireplace and grabbed a handful of powder.

“Harry!”

It was no good, with the name of Diagon Alley on his lips and a flame of green, Harry was gone. Cursing, Tonks rushed, hitting her toe against the edge of the door, and grabbed more of the powder to follow him.

Pleasant smells of food and wood hit her nose, a welcome from the sweetly rotting stench of Grimmauld Place. Eyes opened to wizards and witches sitting at tables and talking normally, the topic of You-Know-Who coming up every so often, only to be immediately silenced.

“Tom?” she asked the man behind the counter. “Have you seen Harry?”

He nodded and pointed at the door to Diagon Alley. “You just missed him.”

“Thanks.” She sped up and walked into the crowd, quick enough to see a familiar messy pile of dark hair among the sea of people. “Harry! Come back!”

Harry sighed and pointed. “There’s the Apothecary. Don’t tell me we’re just going to go back while we’re already here.” He breathed with a smile. “Ah… the smell of not being inside a rotting house. How much I missed you.”

Tonks chuckled, memories flashing by. “Remember the first time that Sirius gave us some money to buy groceries?”

“We ended up buying nothing but crisps, soda, and movies,” continued Harry with a laugh. “Sirius thought that making us eat everything was punishment.”

“And we did the same thing next time!” finished Tonks.

She didn’t realize just how much she was enjoying it. Despite their difference in age, Harry had always been the person she could always count on when things went bad. Friends came and went, never Harry. He was always there. Always. Until he wasn’t.

‘It’s the French witch.’ Tonks knew that, despite not wanting to admit it. Their time in Grimmauld Place made it clear just how much Fleur had monopolized Harry’s time. Before, during summers, Tonks and Harry would spend hours with each other, playing games, watching television, riding bikes, and messing up the kitchen. Now, it had left a hole in Tonks.

But could she really be angry at Fleur? Or Harry? He was no longer a child almost four years younger than her. He had grown up into a young man. A young man with interests. Interests that did not include clumsy ol’ Tonks.

He was always happy with Fleur. The smile he wore in her presence was deeper and more genuine than the smiles of his youth. It made Tonks feel… lesser. Her best friend was growing up without her.

“Shame we can’t watch movies in Grimmauld Place,” mumbled Tonks.

“We can always just go to your house,” said Harry. “I doubt the Death Eaters would think about looking there for a night. We can make some popcorn and watch Star Wars again.”

“Nuh-uh. My house, my rules. We’re watching the Back to the Future!”

“Time travel? How about Terminator, then?”

“We toss a coin like we always did!”

“Boring! Let’s do a wager, see who reaches Headquarters first on a bike. Whoever wins, picks the first movie.”

Tonks snickered. “I was always faster on a bike.”

“I have longer legs than you now, shorty.”

She shifted her body, growing three more inches, the same height as Harry. “Do you really?”

“I can still beat you!”

“I’ve been practicing more than you. Even got a new bike.”

“Got off the training wheels, have you?” taunted Harry

Tonks blushed. “I never used training wheels!”

“Yes, you did!”

“No, I didn’t!” Both of them exploded into laughter, drawing looks from the onlookers. She didn’t care. It was like they never existed. The only thing she felt was the joy of reliving memories of simpler days.

She missed this.

A popping sound reached her ears… then another… and another. Through the crowds, her eyes met something – a man with a mask, a robe to cover his entire body, his wand in hand, pointed at Harry. Her heart stopped, and the figure was lost between the crowd. Looking around frantically, she saw another masked wizard emerge by a store, and a third by an alley. Despite not wearing the skeletal mask and the black hoods, their intentions revealed who they were.

Death Eaters.

“Harry!” she warned, taking out her wand. “Look out!”

A blood red flash of light flew between them and exploded a barrel at their backs. More flashes of different colors, and more explosions. Screams erupted from the crowd. Tonks tried to keep her eyes on Harry, until she saw a green light coming at the edge of her sight. She ducked into an alley, wand in front of her.

“Dora!” she heard the muffled yell between the commotion. She stood up and rushed towards the street, looking through the sea of flowing robes. A black one emerged, going towards her.

“Stupefy!” Her spell was blocked by the Death Eater, and then he sent one of his own towards her, sickly yellow in color. Tonks quickly cast a shield to defend, and cast a spell on a nearby barrel, launching it towards him. “Harry!” she yelled, seeing two more figures going after him, and then he was lost in the surging, screaming crowd.

Another Death Eater got in her way, this one more aggressive than the last time. He fired spell after spell at her. She dodged the first and shielded against the next two, launching herself back in the alley before the fourth managed to hit her.

Quickly, she hid in a small corner, hearing the robed man rush by. As soon as he passed her by, she raised her wand and fired a stunner, the spell hitting the back of his head. The noise of the crowd had drowned out any other sound by now. Tonks emerged wand first from the alley and into the street.

Diagon Alley around them was empty, the rest of the crowd that had been there still fled the alley, holed up in shops or having apparated away.

“Harry!” she called. “Harry!” Tonks looked frantically around, wand at the ready and a spell on her lips. Eventually, her panicked eyes settled on Harry’s familiar wild hair.

She let out a breath of relief. Harry was fine, more than fine. He had won over his opponent. Now he was standing in front of the Death Eater’s fallen form, with his wand still pointing at him, panting hard, sweat and dirt covering his face.

Suddenly, the Death Eater raised his arm. Tonks rushed quickly, wand at the ready, but the Death Eater was not holding a wand. His trembling hand merely went to his mask and he ripped it off, revealing a face, crimson with his own blood. Tonks noted the thin but deep slash across the man’s throat.

“Aaghh!” More thick crimson liquid spurted from the Death Eater’s mouth, his hand desperately clawing at his throat, as if trying to close the laceration that was spewing more and more of his blood into the gaps of the cobbled streets. Then he reached for something, anything, until his hand grasped at Tonks’ cloak. “Haaaghh…” His eyes became dim, his breathing turned to sickening blood-choked gurgles, and finally, his arms fell at his side, completely lifeless.

He was dead.

Tonks stood still, taking a look at the first corpse she’d ever seen in her life. She thought she was ready. She thought her training was enough for her to witness this. She was wrong. Her hand found Harry’s, not sure if she wanted to comfort Harry or have him comfort her.

“Harry,” she whispered, now hugging him, burying her face in his shoulder. “Are you alright, Harry?”

A sharp breath. “I’m fine,” he said. “I… killed him.”

Grabbing at his head, she tried to pull him away. “Don’t look. Let’s go… you need to return to the safehouse. I’ll tell the authorities what happened.”

“Dora,” said Harry, looking in front of him. Tonks turned to see several more figures arriving. She raised her wand, thinking they might be more foes, until she saw that their robes were red, and they had the symbol of the DMLE etched across their chests.

“Thank Merlin,” she gasped. The Aurors had arrived. “Took them long enough.”

The Aurors looked around, with some kneeling by the Death Eater’s corpse. “It’s Lord Crabbe,” said one of them, and murmurs erupted. Tonks didn’t care what they said next, her only concern was to pull Harry away and back to safety.

Unfortunately, the leader of the Aurors stood in their way.

“Mr. Potter,” said the Auror, his wand pointed at Harry. “You are under arrest for the killing of Lord Crabbe. Do not resist and follow me into custody. You will be given a trial –“

“What!” exploded Tonks, not truly believing what she was hearing. “No! They attacked us! We were defending ourselves! He’s innocent!” She tried to grab Harry’s arm but several other Aurors reached her first. “You can’t arrest him! How can you do this?” She pointed at Crabbe’s corpse. “You’re supposed to protect us from them! You’re Aurors! You’re supposed to protect the people and fight for justice. You’re supposed to –“

“We are supposed to uphold the law, ma’am,” said the Auror. “And the law says that he should be arrested.”

Tonks raised her wand at him, dozens were raised at her. “I won’t let you! I won’t!”

“Dora,” said Harry with a voice as mature as it was calming. When had his voice become so deep? He looked into her eyes. “Stand down. Don’t do anything foolish.”

“But Harry –“

“I will be fine, Dora,” he assured, handing his wand over to the Auror. “On the other hand, if you attack an Auror, you won’t be fine. Tell Sirius about what happened. This will all be over soon.”

“I –“

“Please, do as I say.” He gave her a tender smile. “Look after Fleur while I’m away.” The Auror placed his hand on Harry and raised his wand.

Tonks nodded. “I will.” Harry was gone with a pop. She stood still; eyes glued to the floor where Harry used to stand. Time passed by like the wind. People left the nearby stores and tried to get a glimpse of the scene, only to be stopped by the Aurors who were taking photographs of the incident. It was only after one of the team placed her hand on her that she snapped from the haze.

Walking back to Grimmauld Place, Tonks tried to find the words to describe what happened and how to tell everyone of it. Should she say that she couldn’t keep Harry in place? That she failed in keeping him at the safehouse? Or should she tell them of how she failed to guard him when the time for action came.

It turned out that Tonks didn’t need to say anything. By the time she had returned to Grimmauld Place, everybody knew. Sirius only gave her a hug before he set off towards the Ministry as if Mordred himself was pursuing him. Remus and Moody sped right behind him just as hastily. She was about to go with them but they told her to stand down and guard the safehouse.

“I’m going with you!” she insisted.

Remus turned toward her. “You will stay here, child. Where you belong. Leave the rest to us.”

‘Child!’ fumed Tonks with a glare. “I am not a child! I was there with him.”

“Exactly,” he growled. “You were there and you didn’t stop him. You’re not in the Order, and you have demonstrated today why you are not. Stay here before you do any more damage.” He left the building and disappeared with a pop.

“My fault?” growled Tonks, spitting on the ground. Never had she been so angry at him, even when he rejected her with a laugh. “You try protecting him, grandpa!”

The accusations did not stop there. When he returned to the living room, she was met by a glare from Molly Weasley.

“He was your responsibility! Why did you let him out of your sight?!” she screeched. Similar glares came from Ron and Ginny, even Bill didn’t look her in the eye. The only person that came to his defense was, to her surprise, Fleur.

“Stop eet!” she said. “Don’t blame ‘er. Eet’s not ‘er fault. Ze blame is wiz ze Minister and your politicians.”

“Oh, you’re the other side of the problem,” yelled Molly. “Perhaps if you were a better woman for him, you could have kept him grounded. You could have kept him here.”

“’Ow dare you!” Her hands began to transform into talons. “Stop talking like ‘e is your child. ‘E is not! We know what is better for ze both of us. Not you!”

Molly stood there, arms at her side, and then she growled and left the room, leaving the room in silence. With a tired breath. Fleur collapsed on a wooden chair, hands covering her face.

“What’s going to happen to Harry?” asked Ginny to her brother. “Do you know what they’ll do if they convict him.”

Bill sat still, eyes looking around, settling on Fleur when she was not looking. “The Protectorate wants his head and Fudge is more than willing to give it to them.”

A whimper came from Fleur. Tonks saw the French witch scratching the old wooden chair with perfectly manicured nails.

“They’ll give him a trial, but it’s going to be a sham. Malfoy and the rest of his lot will want to convict him with the highest punishment. Renewal will try to release him… but they’re the smallest party. Cygnus may try to get rid of House Potter once and for all so that House Greengrass can take their place.” He gave another look towards Fleur. “If they convict him, he’ll get the Kiss.”

Fleur let out a quiet sob and rose from her chair, running towards the stairs and slamming the door to her room shut.

‘Is that what you think will happen, Bill? Or is it what you hope will happen?’ thought Tonks. She had never seen Bill act this way before, almost as if he’d gone mad. ‘Then again, Fleur Delacour is the kind of woman that will drive some people mad.’ She rose from her seat and walked to the stairs.

“Where are you going?” asked Bill.

Tonks turned around and gave him a glare. “Upstairs. Maybe I’ll find your head along the way, unless it’s lodged all the way inside your arse!”

She knocked on Fleur’s door gently. There was no response. She tried it again, and again, no response. Her hand turned the handle – it was unlocked. Slowly, she opened the door, struggling to see in the dark. Fleur was sitting on the bed, her chin resting on her hands, with shiny trails of tears glistening in the dim light.

“Hey… can I come in?” There was no response. Slowly, she stepped inside, walking towards the bed, and gently sat beside her. “Are you alright?”

Fleur looked at her, lips trembling. “Non,” she cried. “I should ‘ave been zere. I shouldn’t ‘ave gone away. Eef I ‘ad been wiz ‘im, maybe ‘e wouldn’t have wanted to –“

“Don’t blame yourself. I was the one who was here – the one who couldn’t stop him.”

“What ‘appened?”

With a deep breath, Tonks began to tell the story. How Harry didn’t want to stay inside, how he escaped to Diagon Alley and she went after him, how they fought the Death Eaters and Harry killed Lord Crabbe, and how the Aurors came in to arrest him.

“You want to become one of zem, non? An Auror?”

Tonks snorted. “Not anymore. I thought they stood for something. Justice, honor, loyalty… the only thing they stand for is the government of the day, and whatever dumb laws they decide to pass. If joining them means that I’d have to go against Harry, then I will never become an Auror.”

A sad laugh came from Fleur. “You are a good friend to ‘Arry. ‘E always talked about you, and ‘ow dependable you were.”

“Did he now?” She smirked mirthlessly. “That’s me. Ol’ reliable Tonks.” With a sigh, she stood up and paced around the room. “He would always get into trouble. Always. And I joined him when I should have kept him grounded.”

“Nobody can control ‘Arry,” said Fleur. “Zat’s… part of ‘is charm. Eet’s what I love about ‘im.”

Tonks had thought that Fleur may have been in it for money or prestige, to be the wife of the famous Harry Potter. Not anymore. Her sadness told Tonks everything. What she truly felt for Harry, and the agony of not being with him. She still didn’t know why they loved each other so, only that they did, and that was enough for her.

“Everything’s going to be alright. Harry has gotten into worse things than this and come out unscathed,” she assured, placing her arm across Fleur’s shoulders. “I’ll be here for you until he returns. I promise.” She stood up and walked towards the door.

“Dora?” called Fleur, the same name Harry had given her. “Zank you.”

Tonks smiled back. “You’re welcome. Go to sleep. We have a long day tomorrow.”

It was not hard to know when there was someone at Bones Manor. Meepy was very silent, so when voices often echoed around the halls, Susan knew that they had guests. One of the voices was her auntie, while the other, a male, must have been one of the Aurors.

“We moved him into the safest cell, Madam, and I placed the best team to guard him. Believe me, nobody is getting close to him.”

“Double the guard!” snapped Aunt Amelia. “No, wait! Give me a list of all our Aurors. I’m going to handpick two teams to be there at all times.! I want that entire floor more secure than Azkaban!”

Susan got even closer despite herself. Who could be so dangerous that they needed every two handpicked teams on the job?

“Understood, Madam. Though I must warn you that the Minister will not be pleased with –“

“I don’t care what the Minister thinks! Harry Potter should have been released immediately. Fudge is playing dangerous games to feed his delusions. Crabbe was a Death Eater, we all knew he was a Death Eater, and he still got away free because he told some sob story to his allies. Now, finally, after thirteen years, justice has been served.”

“Madam Bones!”

“Don’t try to reprimand me, Richard. You were not there. You did not see what Crabbe was capable of. He liked girls… and he liked them young… very young. Merlin… the things he did. Harry Potter should be given a medal, not a cell and a kangaroo court.”

‘Harry!’ Susan’s heart plummeted. ‘Harry’s in jail? How? Why?’

“I’m sorry, Madam, but we must follow –”

Aunt Amelia sighed. “I know, Richard. I know. But I can’t keep on pretending that I’m doing the right thing. Hopefully Fudge is removed soon, and we can start doing some actual good.”

Susan scurried away silently once she heard the end of the conversation coming. With her body feeling like a boulder, she walked back to her own room, each silent step thundering in the lonely halls. She fell on her bed, trying to calm her heart to no avail. She barely heard the crack that heralded Meepy’s arrival.

“Lunch is ready, Missy Susan.”

She didn’t respond. Her stomach was empty and yet full at the same time. It was only the sound of its grumble that convinced her to stand up again and walk to the dining room, where her aunt was waiting for her.

“Susan? Is anything wrong?” asked Amelia, concerned.

“I’m fine, Auntie.” Shepherd’s pie, her favorite. She took a small bite of it… it tasted like ash. “Auntie?” asked Susan, not able to keep it inside any longer. “Is it true? Is Harry…”

Amelia closed her eyes, stood up, and hugged her. “Sorry, Susan. It was out of my control. Fudge… he’s going mad, and Malfoy is making him dance to his tune.”

“He’s going to be alright? You’re going to get him out?” Susan felt her aunt’s hug get tighter, giving her the same comfort she’d known ever since she was a child. “You can’t send him to Azkaban!”

“I’ll do what I can, Susan.” It was silent in Bones Manor, always so silent. “He means a lot to you, doesn’t he?”

Susan nodded. “I will always be indebted to him, Auntie… I love him, even if he will never love me back. Even if he wants nothing to do with a failure like me.”

The hug stopped, and Susan was met with Amelia’s dark grey eyes. “Listen to me, Susan. You are not a failure. You never were, you never will be. One day, you will realize that. Maybe my words don’t matter because I can’t be the one to show you what you’re worth… but perhaps someone else will.” She stood up and held her wand in the air, ready for an Apparition.

“I’ll do it for you, Susan. All for you.”

There were never talks with Cygnus Greengrass, at least not with Daphne. Perhaps there were when she was younger, when there was little difference between memory and fantasy. She could only remember the recent years with clarity, and every time her Father allotted some of his precious time for her, it was for lessons, and lessons only.

“You can always win over any person, Daphne. Despite the differences in opinions, desires, and social standing, they all have something in common – they all want something. The trick is to find what that person wants, and offer it to them. Once you have convinced them you have it, they will give you anything to get that one thing. Money, favors, influence… anything.”

Daphne sat straight, her face a statue, and yet her ears absorbed every word. “What if that person doesn’t want anything. Or what if you don’t have what they want?”

“Then you get it,” replied Cygnus, looking at another letter on his desk. “As for not wanting something, show me a person with no desires, and I’ll show you  a liar. Everybody wants something. It’s just that some people are better at hiding it than others”

“Even you, Father?” Daphne dared to ask.

Cygnus raised an eyebrow, and opened his mouth to respond. Before any words could come out, a knock came at the door.

“Come in,” said Cygnus. The door opened for her father’s personal assistant, a cousin of Tracey, to come in. He was breathing hard, his face sweating and red. “What is it, David?” asked Cygnus.

“My apologies, Lord Greengrass,” gasped David, taking a moment to catch his breath and regain his posture. “Urgent news, my lord. I thought you would want to hear them as soon as possible.”

“What is it?”

“Lord Crabbe is dead.”

Cygnus let out a breath that almost sounded like a laugh. “Good tidings. The world is better off without that degenerate. How did he die?”

“He was killed, my lord… killed by Harry Potter.”

Daphne’s eyes widened. Potter had killed Lord Crabbe? She clenched her teeth. It was always something with him. Was there ever an incident in which he was nott involved? Killing professors and basilisks… and now the lord of a noble family.

“Killed by Harry Potter?” asked Cygnus. “A fourth year killed a lord?”

“Yes, Lord Greengrass,” affirmed David. “He has been taken by the authorities and will be judged as soon as possible, perhaps as soon as tomorrow, certainly no later than the end of the week. I expect the Protectorate and the Renewal will vote guilty and not guilty respectively. It falls to you to be the tiebreaker, my lord.”

“Thank you for telling me this, David. You may leave.” Daphne watched her father cross his hands and place them beneath his nose, hiding the lower part of his face, violet eyes deep in thought. “Well… this presents quite the peculiar opportunity. You may return to your duties, Daphne. I need to write some letters.”

Daphne nodded and stood up, but when she was about to open the door, her father called out to her.

“Daphne.” His eyes pierced her own, and there was a barely noticeable smirk on his lips. “You are correct, daughter… even me.”

AN: Thanks for reading, and a happy new year to all of you, hopefully it will be better than 2020. I will write one more chapter of this story before returning to my other story.

If you like this story, please leave a review. I only respond to questions on PM, so questions from guest accounts will not be answered. You can join my Discord server at any time.

Link: FEKnu79

Until next time!

The Metal Sage