Harry walked through the halls of the Ministry in the grim aftermath of the Hogsmeade attack — an Auror beside him, escorting him to the Minister's office.
The Floo Network had come back online less than an hour ago, shortly after the anti-apparation jinxes had been dispelled, allowing the healers to finally reach Hogsmeade and treat the injured.
The Ministry workers stepped out of his way, some in deference, others casting worried glances at each other, and he couldn't blame them.
With his robes caked in dirt and grime, stained by the blood of the people he saved, he knew he made a grisly sight. He could have vanished it, cast a scourgify charm on his robes to make himself at least somewhat presentable, but he couldn't bring himself to care.
The bone-weary exhaustion of the last few hours weighed heavily on him — James's small hand going limp. The boy's final, heart-wrenching plea for his parents still echoing in his ears.
He glanced at the receptionist's desk — the one Umbridge usually sat at, half expecting the woman to screech at him the moment he rounded the corner, but found it curiously empty instead.
The Auror rapped sharply on the door to the Minister's office, and to his credit Scrimgeour appeared immediately, pulling open the door to usher him inside and motioning him to the chair in front of his desk before dismissing the Auror.
"Harry," Rufus said. "Please have a seat. Is there anything I can get for you? Something to eat? A tea?"
"No," Harry replied, dropping heavily into the chair.
Rufus faltered for a moment, his fingers tightening on the edge of his desk, his nostrils flaring momentarily as the scent of dried blood hit him.
"You called me here for a reason. What is it?" Harry asked, voice flat, and in no mood for pleasantries.
"The war effort," Rufus replied, leaning forward. "We're bleeding Aurors faster than we can replace them," he explained. "And Bones is telling me recruitment is at an all-time low. That's why I asked you here, Harry."
"It won't be enough," Harry replied, staring out of the window. "You need Aurors today, not six months from now."
"Something has to be done, Harry," Rufus pressed. "If the public.. If you could just attend a press conference or two, show the public we're on the same page —"
"The same page?" Harry asked skeptically, meeting Scrimgeour's gaze. "We're not even reading from the same book."
"Well… I…" Rufus stammered, at a loss for how to respond Harry's pointed accusation.
"Do you even know?" Harry asked tightly. "What it's like out there? How the country is hanging on by a thread? No, of course you don't," he said, shaking his head. "Press conferences, your public image, the next election for Minister, whenever that's going to be — that's all you care about."
"…It isn't like that," Rufus said, but the words felt hollow, even as he said them. "There are things happening," he said, reaching for a stack of parchment sitting on the edge of his desk.
"I've proposed new laws, ways to put the Aurors on the war footing we need to take on Greyback head-on," he continued.
"Then where are they?" Harry demanded. "Where were these supposed laws when we needed them today?"
"It's not that simple, Harry. You know that. These things need to go before the Wizengamot. They need to be ratified into law… I'm trying, but we've never faced anything like this before," Rufus said, keeping his voice even.
"Bureaucracy, paperwork," Harry snapped, losing what little patience he had with Scrimgeour, shoving the stack of parchment off the desk. "You need to actually do something!"
"I'm doing all I can, truly I am Harry," Rufus said, trying to placate him. "And snapping at each other isn't going to change anything. Like I said, we need to present a united front, otherwise Greyback will pick us apart piece by piece."
Harry pinched the bridge of his nose as he let out a slow exhale. "Your united front amounts to nothing more than me standing next to you while you tell the press you're doing everything you can."
"Greyback isn't afraid of a united front. He's afraid of the werewolves having another option. You can give them that. There's a potion, wolfsbane. It helps the werewolves retain their minds after the transformation. I've seen them. I've fought them, and Greyback. I don't know how, but he has a hold on them. This could break it."
"I've heard of it," Rufus replied, his left eye twitching at the mention of the potion as he dug his fingers into the armrests. "It's expensive, far more than the Ministry has to spare at the moment."
"Then ask the Wizengamot," Harry replied. "Pass whatever laws you need to, take out a loan with the goblins if you have to, but it needs to happen, and soon."
"The Wizengamot isn't—" Rufus started, catching himself before he revealed too much, a bead of sweat rolling down his forehead.
As much as he loathed Ogden, he couldn't risk the news of the Chief Warlock going into hiding and leaving the wizarding world to fend for itself from getting out. Not when it threatened to bring down the Ministry along with him, and remove what little protection he had for his own secret getting out.
"To hell with the Wizengamot then!" Harry said, slammed his fist on the desk. "A little boy died in my arms begging to see his parents. I couldn't save him, and I couldn't save his parents. Do you have any idea what that feels like?"
Rufus fell silent, his prepared speech dying on his lips. He rubbed his jaw, searching for the right words. For what it would take to keep Harry on side.
"This is the only chance we have to turn things around," Harry implored. "Every witch and wizard Greyback turns is another foot soldier in his army. He's going to win through sheer numbers if we don't give the werewolves another option."
"My hands are tied, Harry," Rufus replied. "I wish there were another way, but there isn't. I can't change the laws on the books, only the Wizengamot can repeal them."
Harry stared back at the Minister, his frustration seeping through. "Cornelius Fudge would never have allowed it to go this far. He defied the Wizengamot to do his duty, and you can too. Just stand up. Make the call."
"Harry, please. Be reasonable. You know I can't… that's not the way things work," Rufus replied, unable to meet his eyes. "Look, let's just have the press conference, give the public something to hope for. I'll talk to the Wizengamot. I just need some more time."
Harry sighed, the fight draining from him as he realized this meeting had been a complete waste of his time. Scrimgeour had no power, no authority, and unlike Cornelius, he wasn't willing to challenge the Wizengamot to do what was necessary.
"Fine," Harry muttered, standing up. "I'll handle it myself."
"Right, right," Rufus said with a nervous smile as he stood up as well. "You're tired. I understand. I'll send you an owl later — when you're rested. I'm sure if we put our heads together we can come up with something," he said, trying to salvage the meeting.
"Don't," Harry replied, shaking his head. "It'll just be a waste of both our time."
"Wait!" Rufus said, his voice carrying just enough urgency for Harry to pause. "There must be something. What else can I do?"
"The werewolves you're holding in Azkaban. Question them. If they haven't committed a crime, if they're not with Greyback, let them go. That's something you don't need the Wizengamot's permission for. It should have never happened in the first place, " Harry added, walking out of the Minister's office.
Rufus nodded tightly, watching Harry leave. As long as he kept him from walking away completely he could convince the public they were working together, that the government wasn't near collapse. At least for a little while longer. Until he could figure a way out of the mess he was in.
***
Daniela walked across the meadow surrounding the Burrow, making her way to the large boulder on the edge of the property.
She cast a worried glance at Harry as he pulverized a boulder with his bare hands, his fists crashing into the stone with loud, meaty thuds, then at the spiderweb of cracks across its surface.
It wasn't the first time she'd seen displays of power like this from Harry, but there was a tightly coiled anger radiating off him she hadn't seen before.
She stared at him contemplatively for a long moment, trying to fit together the puzzle pieces — how he became who and what he was.
He was quite possibly the strongest person she had ever met — not just magically but mentally as well, with a resilience that bordered on the inhuman.
The way he could compartmentalize his emotions, how his greatest accomplishments had come at times of intense pressure that would have shattered anyone else.
She didn't know what to make of him, not when she first met him, and certainly not now. At times he showed a genuine childlike innocence to the world, assuming the best of everyone and sharing what he had with whoever needed it, regardless of the cost to himself.
Then there was the other side of him. The old soul. The war-weary soldier who had seen far too many battles, far too much death. A cold, precise, and frighteningly skilled fighter and tactician capable of turning the course of a battle with a single spell.
She didn't know how, but he knew she was there, somehow sensing her presence long before he should have. The loud, meaty thuds of his fists smacking against the boulder falling silent as she stepped closer.
"Now isn't a good time to be around me, Daniela," Harry called out, not bothering to turn around, his shoulders tense. "You should go."
"Your friends are worried," Daniela replied, keeping her voice calm and even — the same steady tone she used during her sessions as she took another slow step forward.
"I'm fine," Harry replied tightly, resuming his assault on the boulder.
"You've been carrying a lot on your shoulders Harry," Daniela said gently, taking another careful step closer.
Harry growled, rearing back his fist, sparks of red light dancing on his fingers as he sent a single, devastating punch at the center of the boulder.
Daniela flinched back as the red magic flared hotter, crackling like live wires along Harry's knuckles before a loud crack split the air and the boulder exploded into rubble.
Harry turned around, his face a mask of pain and fury as he dropped his hands to his sides.
Daniela drew closer. "You're not fine Harry," she said softly. "Tell me what you're going through — please."
"What I'm going through?" Harry ground out. "The world is falling apart around me, and there's nothing I can do to stop any of it! That's what I'm going through," he snapped.
"Ron told me you leveled a building in Hogsmeade. That means whatever you're doing on your own to manage this isn't working anymore. Talk to me. I helped your friends, and I can help you too if you let me in."
Harry sighed heavily, his anger deflating slightly at her earnest plea. "I don't know what to do," he admitted.
"Start from the beginning," Daniela instructed.
"Greyback is winning, and I don't know where he is, let alone how to stop him," Harry replied. "The Aurors are being decimated by the werewolves, and the Minister… he doesn't have the power to do anything, even if he wanted to."
Daniela nodded, taking a moment to digest Harry's words. "The last attack. I heard it was really bad."
"Yeah," Harry replied wearily. "By the time we got to Hogsmeade, the attack was already over. All we could do was pick up the pieces."
"I just finished a session with Percy," Daniela said. "He mentioned a little boy, James. He said you held his hand… that you were with him until the end. I'm sure that meant a lot to him."
"I couldn't save him," Harry muttered, looking away. "His injuries were too much for me to heal."
Harry flinched, the memory suddenly surging back to him. James's fingers going slack in his hand, his last, broken whisper for his parents. That moment haunted him — made it impossible to lock it away along with all the other memories from the battle of Hogwarts.
"It sounds like he was in a lot of pain," Daniela said softly.
"He was," Harry replied quietly. "I know… there's a way to turn off pain receptors temporarily. He didn't feel any of it when he passed."
"I'm sorry, Harry," Daniela said, her own eyes welling up at the pain reflected in his eyes. "Let's have a session Harry. A real one," She offered. "We can work through this together."
Harry shook his head.
"I want to help you Harry, but there's nothing I can do if you don't let me in," Daniela replied. "This anger. This pain you're holding onto — it's eating you alive. You see that don't you?"
"I can handle it," Harry replied tightly.
"Can you?" Daniela asked.
"You don't understand," Harry replied, shaking his head.
"Then make me understand," Daniela pressed. "Tell me what's going on. What's happening to you? How do you do the things you do? Where is it all coming from?" She said, asking all the questions she'd been wondering since the moment she met him.
"I know you want to help," Harry replied, looking at the ground. "That's the problem. This pain, this anger, this rage," he said, his eyes flashing as he looked up. "I need it. It's the only thing keeping me going, keeping me in this fight. Without it even more people will end up dead, or worse."
"…Harry," Daniela breathed, reaching out for him, feeling every ounce of pain in his words like physical blows.
"No," Harry said horsely, taking a step back. "Don't. Don't try to make this better. Don't try to fix me."
"Harry," Daniela breathed, struggling to find the words. She couldn't deny the harsh truth of what he said, nor could she bear the thought of him carrying this burden alone.
"I need you to go," Harry said, looking away again. "Please."
Daniela nodded slowly, needing time to process what Harry had just revealed to her, and how best to help him through it.
"And Daniela," Harry added. "I assume you won't be discussing what I told you with anyone else."
Daniela shook her head. "No, Harry. Not unless you want me to."
"Thank you," Harry replied
"If you change your mind, you know where to find me," she said, walking back to the house.
"Harry," Merlin said, after Daniela left. "I think she's right. You can't put this off any longer."
'I can handle it,' Harry thought, dismissing Merlin's concerns as he reformed the boulder, fusing the stone back together with a wave of his hand.
"Can you?" Merlin replied. "You smashed a building yesterday because you got angry."
'No one got hurt,' Harry thought back, hammering his fist into the stone again. "I can control it. I just need to learn how."
"Not yet, but it's only a matter of time before someone does. This magic you're tapping into is tied directly to your emotions. First it was pain, now it's rage, and we have no idea what's coming next."
'Then I'll learn to control that too,' Harry thought, slamming a heavy fist into the center of the boulder, cracking it in two.
Merlin sighed. "You're missing the point, Harry. Yes, this magic is powerful, but it's all tied to the negative emotions leaking out of your blocked memories. It's not a matter of if these emotions will overwhelm you, its when."
'Can I beat Greyback without them?' Harry thought back sharply, already knowing what Merlin would say.
"No," Merlin relented, conceding the point. "Let's focus on the attack then. Greyback attacked Hogsmeade, why?"
'Does he need a reason to?' Harry thought sarcastically.
"Everything he's done has served a greater purpose," Merlin reminded him. "Don't lose sight of that because you're angry."
Harry nodded, conceding the point. He sat down on the grass, closing his eyes as he replayed what happened in his mind's eye. '…I arrived too late; the battle was over, and the werewolves were already gone.'
"Yes," Merlin replied. "But what else?"
'Shops destroyed, people dead or injured, the same thing that happened in Diagon Alley,' Harry thought, opening his eyes.
"No, not the same," Merlin replied. "The attack ended as quickly as it began. Close your eyes again. Concentrate."
'Greyback wasn't there,' Harry added after a moment's thought. 'Or if he was, he didn't stick around long enough for anyone to see him.'
"Exactly," Merlin replied. "He's always created a spectacle — this time he didn't. We need to find out why. Go back to Hogsmeade."
***
Ron stood beside Harry, surveying the destruction around them. "What are we looking for?"
"That's just it, Ron," Harry replied with a shrug of his shoulders. "I don't know. Anything out of place. Anything that stands out. We need to figure out why Greyback picked Hogsmeade of all places to attack."
"That's going to be tough," Ron said, scratching his head. "Hogsmeade has a lot of shops, but it's not exactly Diagon Alley. I mean — aside from Hogsmeade station, there isn't anything here you wouldn't find at any other wizarding settlement."
Harry nodded, thinking along the same lines. Nothing about Hogsmeade really stood out, aside from its proximity to Hogwarts, and with the school closed for the summer there was even less reason for the attack.
"Let's look around," Harry suggested walking down the cobbled street.
"Dervish and Banges got hit pretty hard," Ron offered, glancing at magical equipment repair shop.
"There's nothing here he would have wanted," Harry said, looking through the smashed storefront window.
"The Three Broomsticks wasn't hit nearly as hard" he added, glancing at the more or less intact pub.
"Fred and George said there's a secret passageway to Hogwarts in the cellar," Ron offered.
"No," Harry shook his head — his gut telling him that whatever Greyback was after had nothing to do with Hogwarts. "He wouldn't need to attack Hogsmeade just to get to Hogwarts."
"I don't see much here beyond senseless destruction," Ron added, stopping to stare at the burnt out husk of another shop as a group of witches and wizards sifted through the wreckage, looking for whatever they could salvageable.
Harry let out a deep sigh, forced to agree with Ron. "You're right," he admitted. "I thought…" he trailed off, bending down to pick up the crumpled newspaper sitting on the ground.
Greyback's Rampage
By: Andy Smudgley
In the early hours of the morning Greyback and his pack committed another deadly attack. Their target this time — the small village of Hogsmeade, leaving five dead and more than twenty injured.
This attack followed the same pattern Greyback has become infamous for. First by casting a net of anti-apparation jinxes wide enough to cover the town, followed by shutting down the Floo Network, and finally a ward to prevent post owls from delivering letters to the Aurors.
Much of the village is unrecognizable, with damages estimated in the tens of thousands, leaving many witches and wizards who can't afford the costly repairs effectively homeless.
The Aurors on scene fought bravely, but without a means to call for reinforcements and Greyback's superior numbers, it was all but impossible to mount an effective counter-offensive to drive them back.
Witnesses confirm Harry Potter was not present for the battle, only appearing well after it concluded, then left shortly after the anti-apparation jinx came down.
In what is becoming a pattern for Harry Potter, he and his fellow Hogwarts students raided multiple shops in Hogsmeade, taking what they pleased, and treating the battle as little more than a photo op for the young wizard.
While some items taken were indeed medical potions, it is all but impossible to ascertain anything else Potter may have taken, and what was destroyed in the fighting.
On the condition of anonymity, several witches and wizards have come forward claiming Harry Potter destroyed at least one building in a fit of anger using a new form of magic that has yet to be identified.
This is not to be confused with the inky black magic he used during the attack on the Ministry, and later in Diagon Alley.
The magic was a deep red in color — resembling blood, and appeared highly volatile and explosive.
The magic lingered for several minutes after Harry Potter cast the as of yet unidentified spell, making it difficult for witches and wizards to even approach the area until the magic fully dissipated.
There can be no debate at this point. Whatever form of magic Potter is using, it is undoubtedly dark in nature, and considering how destructive it has already proven to be, it needs to be at the very least identified, and regulated by the Ministry, if not banned outright and treated in the same vein as the Unforgivables.
Harry's eyes narrowed as he read the final lines.
We formally call upon the Ministry to compel Harry Potter to answer these questions and fully reimburse the businesses he has stolen from.
Harry let the copy of the Prophet slip from his fingers, feeling a flash of anger and irritation over Egwu's lies.
"It's trash," Ron said, not even bothering to pick the newspaper up and read it for himself. "I don't even know how the Prophet is still in business with tripe like this."
"Trash or not, there's still people who believe it," Harry replied as they continued down the road.
"Less everyday," Ron muttered angrily. "No one with children that went to Hogwarts believe it, and no one that's seen the front lines of the war."
"Thanks Ron," Harry nodded, needing to hear those words.
"Well, that's interesting," Ron said, suddenly stopping in front of Ollivander's. He stared at the storefront for a long moment, then The Magic Neep on its right, and then at Ceridwen's Cauldrons on the left. "Why would they…"
Harry's eyes widened. He had been so distracted by the article in the Prophet he'd missed it entirely. Ollivander's hadn't been so much as touched by the werewolves.
He walked to the door, trying the handle — frowning when he found it locked. "Nothing seems out of place," he said looking through the window. "But there's no one here."
Ron peered through the window as well. "It's just a local branch, not the main store, but that doesn't explain why they would have just left it."
Harry knocked on the door twice, but after waiting for nearly ten minutes there was still no answer.
"Let's take a look inside," Harry said, casting an unlocking charm on the front door.
"Anyone here?" Ron called out as they stepped into the shop, only to be met with silence.
Harry walked to the front desk, looking at the shelves filled to the brim with wand boxes, then underneath the counter, finding a few dusty instruments.
On a hunch, he grabbed a box and looked inside. "Empty." Then grabbed another, finding it empty as well.
"It's the same over here," Ron called out from the other shelf, holding up another empty boxes.
Harry ran to the back room, flinging open the door to find all the shelves in the back of the store completely bare. No wands, no cores, no equipment. It was all just gone.
"It was all just a distraction," he realized. "All this death and destruction just so he could get some wands."
"We should have seen this coming," Ron said, kicking himself for not considering the possibility. "Aside from Greyback, almost none of them had wands. I thought… I thought. I don't know what I thought."
"Yeah," Harry nodded, thinking along the same lines. He'd just assumed the werewolves chose not to use wands, preferring close-quarters combat to take advantage of their superior speed and strength, but it couldn't have been further from the truth.
"Most of the werewolves live on the streets. They didn't attend Hogwarts, let alone have enough galleons to afford a wand," he said.
"And even with all the galleons Greyback stole, he wouldn't have been able to just go out and buy a bunch of wands. It would have drawn far too much attention," Ron added, piecing together Greyback's plan.
"He attacked Hogsmeade specifically because it wasn't the main branch. People would have noticed within days if the one in Diagon Alley had been ransacked," Harry added.
Harry and Ron walked up the stairs to the apartment above the shop, confirming their suspicions — overturned furniture, torn walls. All clear signs of a struggle.
"This is bad, really bad," Ron said, looking through the wreckage. "They weren't just after any old wand; they were after the wand maker himself."
"It's worse than that," Harry replied gravely. "He can make custom wands now — attuned specifically to the werewolves magic, and with the curse already enhancing their speed and reflexes, we'll be even further behind.
***
Remus walked through central London, a troubled expression on his face. Despite his best efforts, he hadn't been able to hold back his transformation during the latest werewolf attack — transforming fully for the first time since arriving in England.
Looking back at it now, he could see the pressure had been building since the first time he held back his transformation, and it was only a matter of time before he could no longer contain it.
He'd expected the wolf go on a rampage — that he would lose control, but to his shock, he'd retained complete control of his mind, with even his transformation changing.
He'd looked at himself in the mirror, his transformation closer to a wolf-human hybrid than a werewolf, almost as if he'd got stuck halfway in an animagus transformation.
He was also noticeably larger, and stronger, his magic practically singing in his veins as he stood taller than he ever had before. It felt almost euphoric, but there was something else too — an urge, an instinct, a need to find a particular place that he'd never been before.
That was how he found himself here — the call growing stronger with each step he took.
He followed the Charing Cross Mainline until he found the entrance to the Northern Line, keeping his head down to avoid the attention of the muggles.
The call grew even stronger, becoming all but impossible to ignore when he opened a rusty metal door, revealing a set of concrete steps. He stepped inside, closing the door firmly behind him.
The hairs on the back of his neck stood on end as the roar of the subway suddenly stopped — magic.
Remus gulped nervously, but descended the cement steps into the abandoned tunnels of the Jubilee line. He knew it was dangerous, foolish even, but the call was too strong to ignore.
He followed it, finding a large hall at the bottom of the staircase filled with witches and wizards — werewolves, somehow able to sense the curse inside all of them.
He stepped further into the large hall, blending in with the other werewolves as he looked around.
The air was thick and stale. Expansion charms had been used extensively, just shy of their breaking points.
Even the adjacent tunnels and ventilation shafts had been expanded, but despite all that the conditions were squalid, far worse than the poorest slums of wizarding communities.
He'd found it, Greyback's hideout — where all the werewolves in Britain had fled to after the Ministry began rounding them up.
***
Hi I'm sorry about the late updates. Due to some changes at home I've had less time to write than I normally do, and its been this way for the last few months. Maybe this is just me, but I'm also finding the quality of my writing has dipped as well, and I've been spending a lot more time editing and re-writing as well which has compounded the problem of getting things out on time. It's a complex story to write with all the different plot threads happening at the same time, and the last thing i want to do is half ass it, and ruin the story.
The best way I think i can address this is taking a little more time between posting chapters instead of every two weeks. I just some time to get a handle on things, and I'll do my best to update more regularly as soon as I can.
Please take the time to review, and let me know how the story is going.
If you would like to support me and my writing, please consider visiting https://taplink.cc/jumpin for all the stories I'm currently working on and early access to chapters 19, 20, 21 and 22 of Legacy of Shadows along with some character portraits for Merlin, Morgan and Nimue, and an audio versions of the chapters.