Harry flicked his wands towards the other side of the lake on the
grounds of Potter Castle; he was practising duel casting, something
which he was determined to perfect after his duel with Voldemort.
The two fire whips decapitated the targets while he finished firing a
spell at the practice dummy that was behind him. Sweating and
panting, Harry collapsed on the ground, looking tired. He had been
practising for several hours straight. It had been a month since he
and Dylan had returned home from school and a lot had happened in
that time.
After interrogating Barty Crouch and de-briefing Harry, Sirius and
Amelia had issued arrest warrants against all those Death Eaters
who Voldemort had identified in the graveyard. Unfortunately, all of
them had done a runner and had disappeared underground. Sending
a team of Aurors to Little Hangleton graveyard after the place had
been identified proved to be useless as there was no evidence
present other than traces of a dark magic ritual. Unknown to them, a
large manor which used to be present on top of a hill in the village
had disappeared – and no one in the village even remembered its
existence or knew where it was. Dumbledore, who had tried to
investigate it had realised that Voldemort had used a Fidelius Charm
on the house - which he could not remember - and had turned into
his headquarters.
Meanwhile, Voldemort had not wasted any time in showing the
wizarding population that he was back. Barty Crouch Junior might
have been executed by the Ministry but the information he had
managed to acquire for Voldemort combined with the information
Rookwood had been able to provide had made him smuggle giants
into Britain without triggering the sensor net. There had already been
multiple attacks and mass-Muggle killing, making the Ministry
scramble to erase the memories of various Muggles and their
contraptions – if the International Statute of Secrecy was breached,
things would turn very ugly, very fast. Sirius had also informed the
Muggle Prime Minister of what was happening – Magical Britain was
in a state of war.
The Dementors had also sworn allegiance to Voldemort so now
there were thousands of those foul creatures roaming all over the
mainland. Sirius had any remaining Dementors at Azkaban
destroyed with the use of Fiendfyre and then dumped their remains
in the sea; a few hundred Dementors were destroyed, but there were
too many of them out of control to capture them all. The Ministry had
grown too dependent on Dementors over the last few centuries for
them to change in such a short time. There had been several
incidents of Dementor attacks on Muggles, but there had been no
attacks on any witches and wizards – yet.
Not everything was bad though because the Vampires and Goblins
had decided to stay neutral in the war, much to Sirius and Amelia's
relief and Voldemort's frustration. There had been no werewolf
attacks as yet but everyone knew it was only a matter of time. On the
political side, Sirius had little success because the members of the
Wizengamot were terrified to vote on any bill. If they took a stand
against Voldemort and his Death Eaters, they would be the next
ones to be killed. There had already been an attempt on Rufus
Scrimgeour's life and people did not want to be on the Death Eater's
target list.
Miller's Mirrors were proving to be an outstanding source for creating
awareness with the public. The Ministry knew they couldn't
broadcast anything which the Death Eaters wouldn't find out anyway,
so they used it as a means to inform the common witches and
wizards of the country in how to defend themselves and their families
from the Death Eaters, Dementors, Inferi and a host of other things.
A retired Auror would teach defence and offensive spells to the
public through the recording crystals so that they would be able to
protect themselves in case of an attack.
Meanwhile, Harry had been training extensively since he came back
to Potter Castle. Dylan, ever Harry's shadow, had decided that he
too wanted to train and help his brother so he began practising
against the duelling dummies as well. Harry had also lent books to
Daphne for her to study and she trained with him whenever he was
in a teaching mode. Harry was an outstanding teacher, something
which both Daphne and Dylan readily agreed.
There had been a few attacks on the lesser populated magical
shopping districts, but it hadn't come to Diagon Alley yet. Harry was
also curious about what Voldemort was up to. Clearly, he had
something up his sleeve because he had not taken such a serious
stance against the magical world yet. The security provided to the
Minister of Magic and the heads of different departments were also
beefed up considerably. Sirius, Amelia and Rigel were in grave
danger and were top targets along with Harry. He had also raised the
war wards around Potter Castle and all its defences so that in case
of an attack, he would be able to defend himself.
Just as he was staring off into the distance, he sensed someone sit
next to him on the ground.
"Finished with your training?" asked Dylan, panting, his body
covered in sweat. "Those practice dummies can really tire me out.
I've been using it on Level Three and the spells are supposed to be
lethal."
"How long were you able to hold out before you got hit?"
"Fifteen minutes," Dylan replied smugly.
"Don't get overconfident," warned Harry. "Those are just
enchantments; when you're fighting someone those curses will
actually be lethal, not flashes of light."
"Sorry," muttered Dylan.
"It's fine. I'm actually proud of you, so well done. I just don't want you
to become overconfident. I found out the hard way that
overconfidence leads you to your downfall. I don't want you to face
another Lockhart or Voldemort to learn your lesson."
The two of them were silent for a while, staring at the swans which
moved in the water of the lake on the expansive grounds of the
castle. Birds chirped nearby, the grass was green, and they could
feel a light breeze; it was so peaceful.
"It's hard to imagine that there is a war going on outside, isn't it?"
said Dylan softly. "It's like we are in a different world as compared to
all the chaos going on outside."
Harry hummed. "There were two more Dementor attacks on Muggles
in Nottingham," he said quietly.
"What? B-But that's just – just –"
"– less than twenty kilometres from here? Yes," said Harry. "I'm going
to teach you the Patronus Charm. It's actually not as difficult as
people say it is. It might take some time but you'll be able to do it.
Like all forms of magic, it needs intent. You need to want to conjure a
guardian to help you against the Dementors. Also, this also requires
an emotional component like most complex spells based on ancient
magic. The Killing Curse, for example, is very difficult to cast
because you need to feel the amount of hatred needed to kill. The
Cruciatus Curse, on the other hand, would work only when you want
to cause pain, you want the other person to suffer. Similarly –"
"Wait, if these curses have such properties, then why do you believe
that magic should not be classified? I know that you don't put much
into the theory of light and dark magic," said Dylan.
"Good question," Harry praised him, nodding in approval. "Tell me,
Dylan. What if you have a patient in front of you who has been bitten
by a snake and you can't identify the source? The poison is
spreading through the patient's nerves and you need to know where
it is originating from so that you can contain it. This technique was
used before the more modern healing spells and magical technology
were invented. Or what if a patient's heart stops beating due to
unnatural means? The Crucaitus Curse can help save the patient's
life in both cases."
"The Imperius Curse would greatly help in cases of healing patients
who need to guide the healer to the place of injury. It was used
primarily in cases of brain surgery and healing. The Killing Curse is a
quick, painless death for animals which people use for food or
maybe a quick death for patients who are suffering constantly. It may
sound harsh, but if my parents had been tortured into insanity like
Frank and Alice Longbottom, if the final decision-making power had
been vested in me, I would not have let them suffer like that. I would
have authorised a medically induced death so that they could be in
peace. I wouldn't want them to suffer just because I was selfish in
not wanting to let go. Augusta Longbottom never really understood
the effect that had on Neville, having to see his parents in that state
over and over again since the time he was a baby."
Dylan stood up and walked closer to the lake, dipping his ankles in
the water. "You were saying about the Patronus charm?"
"Similarly, the Patronus Charm requires positive emotions to power
it, backed by a strong positive memory. Joy, serenity, happiness, love
... these emotions would help you create the perfect Patronus
backed by a strong memory. Think of a time when you were the
happiest. Let the emotions flow through you and you will be able to
cast it."
Dylan nodded. Lifting his wand upward, he chanted, " Expecto
Patronum!"
A lot of silvery mist flew out of his wand, but there was no distinctive
animal like Harry's. Dylan tried, pushing more magic into it but it
didn't work. He collapsed on the ground, panting.
"That was bloody exhausting!" he said loudly.
"It is," said Harry. "You were already drained after practising for so
long so you couldn't concentrate. Come on, let's play some
Quidditch."
A week later, Harry and Dylan were in the family drawing room of the
castle. Harry was sitting on the sofa with Daphne next to him as they
observed Dylan. The boy was close but something held him back.
"Expecto Patronum!"
The silvery mist appeared again but just as a creature was about to
form, it disappeared. Dylan groaned as he sat on the couch opposite
to the couple. "Why wouldn't this work?" he shouted in frustration.
"Your memory is not powerful enough; maybe you are not letting the
emotions flow through you or you are just not connecting with the
memory," said Daphne, frowning slightly. "Come on, Dylan. Try it
again," she said encouragingly as Dylan got up and walked to the
centre of the room. They watched as Dylan raised his wand and
said, " Expecto Patronum!"
The silvery mist appeared again but Dylan's eyes rested on Harry
and Daphne. He thought about how much he loved them, he thought
about his Uncle Sirius, Aunt Amelia, Astoria ...
The silvery mist contorted as a creature began to form. Powerful
wings emerged along with sharp talons and a beak. Dylan watched
in awe as his Patronus took the form of a golden eagle ... a very
familiar golden eagle – right down to the scar above the right eye.
"That's you," whispered Daphne as she looked at Harry. She smiled
as she saw the happiness that was shining in Harry's eyes when he
realised what his brother's Patronus took the shape of.
"I don't know what to say," said Harry softly. "I'm touched, Dylan.
Thank you."
"I didn't choose it but if there had to be someone to protect me from
soul-sucking demons, it would have to be you," said Dylan grinning.
Harry chuckled. "Alright, now let's start with your Animagus training."
Daphne and Dylan's eyes lit up when Harry said that. Sitting down
opposite to them, Harry began explaining the process to them.
Hopefully, they would be able to master the transformation within a
year.
Harry grumbled mentally as his feet touched the ground at
Grimmauld Place, London. He still had not been able to talk to
Dumbledore about the next academic year. He had gotten his
N.E.W.T. results and had scored an Outstanding in all seven
subjects with extra credit. He had written to a few of his teachers to
inquire about apprenticeship but all of them, except Professor
Slughorn, said that he would also need to speak to Dumbledore first
since they were primarily teachers at Hogwarts. To talk to the
headmaster who was supposed to be very busy, Harry and Dylan
were here at the headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix.
"How in Merlin's name did you escape your bodyguards, Uncle
Sirius?" asked Dylan curiously.
Sirius smirked. "I'm not a Marauder for nothing, Dylan. The Aurors
are under the impression that I'm still at Black Manor. My
bodyguards are loyal but we can't risk anyone knowing the location
of headquarters. Here, read this and memorise it," he said, handing
them a slip of paper in his handwriting.
The headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix may be found at
Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place, London.
Once the two brothers read it, Sirius burnt the piece of paper. No
sooner did they think of the place, a house materialised between
Numbers Eleven and Thirteen. It was as though an extra house had
inflated, pushing the others out of its way. Sirius quickly led them to
the front door as he tapped the handle. There were a series of clicks
as the door opened, leading them inside.
A dim light illuminated the hallway which while not very inviting, was
at least somewhat clean. "I can see why you did not want to live
here," said Harry casually as they walked forward.
Sirius snorted. "This place wasn't this bad when I was growing up,
you know. It used to be very elegant and tasteful but ever since my
mother died, it has become terrible. All the enchantments around the
house have mutated with the wild magic in the air to create strange
curses and a home for magical pests. I asked the other house-elves
to finally come here to do some basic cleaning. It had remained like
this because I don't usually come here and even the other elves
don't want to brave my mother's old house elf; nasty little thing. He
hasn't cleaned anything in here for ages and you can see the results.
Anyway, there's going to be a meeting soon, so do you want to
come?"
"And be asked to join Dumbledore's little vigilante club?" said Harry,
rolling his eyes. "No thanks. I don't work for the man and I never will.
I'm actually shocked that you provided him with a house."
"Voldemort is our biggest priority right now," said Sirius grimly. "And
as much as I hate to say it, things would be much smoother if I work
with the Chief Warlock without any issues. This house was a waste
anyway but well protected and Dumbledore wanted to add the
Fidelius Charm too and since I'm the Secret Keeper I thought, why
not? Go up the stairs, boys, and you'll find one of the rooms clean ...
I hope."
"It's fine, Uncle Sirius," Dylan shrugged. He observed some of the
scowling portraits. "Hmm, these portraits aren't so bad at Black
Manor. Most of them may not be chatty, but they don't act like this . I
know for a fact that Orion Black's portrait actually likes me."
"Again, the wild magic and enchantments gone bad have affected
the portraits too," said Sirius in exasperation. "What that elf has been
doing, I'll never know. By the way, I forgot to inform you that the
Weasleys are staying here until the end of the holidays. I don't know
why but it seems their home is not warded yet and Dumbledore says
they are a major target. Either way, as long as they can take care of
themselves, I don't care. I'll call you in an hour or two."
With that, Sirius disappeared down the hallway while Harry and
Dylan were examining some of the rooms. They climbed up the
stairs to the first-floor landing when they heard a crack as a door
opened to the side.
"Harry, Dylan!" Fred greeted them with a broad smile.
"We didn't think you would grace us with your presence," said
George, grinning widely. "Come on in."
The two of them entered the room and looked around. "Well, at least
this room is clean," muttered Dylan. From behind, he heard a voice
saying, "What are they doing here?"
"I'm not here to see you, Weasley," said Harry indifferently. "I came
here to talk to Dumbledore but I was told they were having their
meeting, so I have to stay."
Ron's ears turned pink as he began sulking. Harry simply raised an
eyebrow at the twins who shrugged. "He wanted to be part of the
Order but Mum and everyone else refused," explained George.
"Also, Mum has been forcing us to clean this house," said Fred. "It's
like waging a war, let me tell you."
"Are you crazy?" asked Harry incredulously. "No offence but with this
level of magical decay, no one without experience in dealing with
curses should be going anywhere near those rooms! I wouldn't allow
Dylan to go in there and your brother certainly shouldn't."
Dylan frowned. "Is it really –"
"Ron, I still can't get into the library!" said a very familiar voice. Dylan
observed that Harry's eyes darkened slightly but no one else
seemed to have noticed it.
"Nice to see you, Granger," said Harry cordially. "What are you doing
here?"
Hermione scowled when she saw Harry. "I'm Ron and Ginny's
friend," she said in her usual bossy tone. "Mrs Weasley figured that it
would not be safe for me to stay in the Muggle world. I might be an
important target because of the Death Eaters going after Muggleborns."
Harry and Dylan locked eyes with each other, both of them thinking
the same thing. Voldemort had other things to do rather than go
specifically after Hermione Granger, whose self-importance was not
something others shared. However, she was right in that Muggleborns
were in danger, though Harry doubted Voldemort would target
them in large numbers this soon. He had bigger fish to fry, namely
the Ministry of Magic.
"So, who's in this Order anyway?" asked Dylan, breaking the silence.
"Lots of people," Fred shrugged. "We've tried to listen to the
meetings but the door is well-warded. We've met several people
already, so we have a pretty good idea. There are Dumbledore's old
friends like Doge and Moody –"
"Great," muttered Harry.
"Then there are a few more Aurors, Hogwarts teachers like
McGonagall, Snape –"
"Snape?" exclaimed Dylan, scowling.
" Professor Snape," Hermione corrected him.
"Like that arsehole deserves that title," he sneered. "What is he
doing for the Order?"
"He's a spy," Harry answered quietly, leaning against the wall
casually, his ankles crossed. "He's supposed to be spying on
Voldemort because Dumbledore is convinced that Snape is on his
side."
"And what do you believe?" asked George curiously.
"Snape is not on Dumbledore's side. Dumbledore is taking a very
risky gamble to accommodate the greasy git."
"And how would you know that?" Hermione snapped at him.
"Professor Dumbledore trusts Professor Snape, so that should be
enough for everyone!"
"I don't trust Dumbledore either, Granger, so that would be a little
difficult," Harry shot back, rolling his eyes.
"How could you say that?" shrieked Hermione indignantly. "That's
Professor Dumbledore you're talking about! He's the greatest wizard
ever! The only one You-Know-Who ever feared!"
Harry couldn't help it. He burst out laughing. "The only one
Voldemort ever feared?" he repeated disbelievingly. "Oh, please!
Voldemort does not fear Dumbledore. He loathes him, true, and
would do absolutely anything possible to get rid of the man, but fear
him? No. That's just propaganda spouted by Dumbledore's
supporters."
"Why don't you continue?" said Dylan, shutting off Hermione's rant
as she opened her mouth furiously to recite 'facts' she had read from
books.
"Yeah," said Fred slowly. "Then we have our brothers Bill, Charlie
and Percy, though Percy is only here to curry favour with
Dumbledore and Minister Black."
"How is that?" asked Dylan curiously. "I thought Bill was in Egypt and
Charlie in Romania?"
"Well, yeah, but Dumbledore wants international witches and wizards
in case the war goes outside Britain," said George with a shrug. "Bill
got a transfer here to the London branch of Gringotts. He wasn't too
happy, but there are other compensations."
"Like what?"
"Remember Fleur Delacour? Apparently, she wants to be a cursebreaker
herself. She applied to Gringotts for a job along with
personal training in the field, was placed here in London and guess
who she got assigned to?"
"Bill?" asked Dylan, his eyebrow raised.
"Spot on," said George, grinning widely. "From what we've managed
to find out, they spent a few weeks together and decided to go on a
date and, well, it seems to be going well."
"Yes!" Dylan cried happily as he pumped his fist in the air.
"She was never a problem, Dylan," said Harry wryly. "There's no
need to be that happy."
"Speak for yourself! I can't wait to tell Daphne about this!"
Harry rolled his eyes as the door of the bedroom opened and Ginny
Weasley walked in. It took her several seconds to realise that there
were strangers in the room and when her eyes landed on Harry, her
face turned pink.
"Hi Harry!" she said in a high-pitched voice.
"Hello," Harry greeted her politely.
"Well, if you'll excuse me," said Hermione standing up. "I'll see if I
can get into the library again."
"You can't," said Dylan shortly.
"And why not?" demanded Hermione angrily.
"Because you are not Black by birth or have any close blood
relatives who are Blacks. Unless the Head of House gives you
permission, you won't be able to enter the library or any other family
warded area."
"And how would you know that?" asked Hermione suspiciously.
Dylan simply raised an eyebrow. "My brother and I live with Uncle
Sirius and Aunt Amelia half the time," he said. "I'm not a Black by
blood so I needed permission. Harry already has Black blood
because of his grandmother but his position as godson gives him
automatic access."
Hermione sat down, looking frustrated. "What's the point of having a
library if other people can't enter it?"
"It's a family library, Granger," said Harry quietly, "not a public library.
Family books and grimoires are heavily guarded by the members."
"It's the same way at Potter Castle," Dylan shrugged. "I couldn't
enter the library or the Lord's study until Harry keyed me into the
wards."
"Potter Castle ?" asked Ron incredulously.
Harry shrugged casually.
Just then, the door to the room opened and Mrs Weasley poked her
head inside. "The meeting is over kids, you can come down now. Be
careful while coming down the stairs and don't make any noise. We
don't want to wake anything."
" Wake anything?" whispered Dylan incredulously. Harry casually put
an arm around Dylan's shoulders as they walked out of the room.
Just as they were taking the last step to the ground floor, there was a
loud sound.
CRASH!
"Tonks!" cried Mrs Weasley in exasperation as she set right the
Troll's leg stand but before anyone could say anything, there was a
horrible, ear-splitting, blood-curdling screech.
Walburga Black's portrait was screaming at the top of her voice and
as she did, the other portraits began to scream too. Dylan covered
his ears with his hands and looked expectantly at Harry.
BANG!
Harry shot off a cannon blast from his fingers as the portraits
quietened down, looking at him in shock.
"If I hear even a whisper from any of you, you'll be very sorry
indeed," said Harry dangerously, sparks coming from his fingers.
"And just who do you think you are, to demand that of me in my
home?" screeched Walburga's portrait.
"Harry Potter."
"James' son?" she yelled furiously. "That blood-traitor married a
Mudblood! Out ! The House of Black does not entertain filthy halfbloods
like you! Filth! Scum! Oh what a surprise, my filthy bloodtraitor
of my son is also here! Shame of my flesh! Get out, Sirius, and
never come back again! How dare you all befoul the house of my
fathers –"
BANG!
People came running towards the source of the commotion and were
startled to see Harry pointing his wand at Walburga's portrait, the tip
glowing.
"Insult my parents again, Lady Black, and you'll see exactly how
proficient and talented I am in the Dark Arts," said Harry coldly. "The
wards you have put up might prevent any damage to the canvas
against most spells, but I'd like to see if it holds up against
something as deadly as Fiendfyre. I could burn this house down in
an instant and I'm sure my father wouldn't mind at all. If I use you as
an example, the rest of the portraits will think twice before insulting
my parents."
"Your blood-traitor of a nephew married a Mudblood, yes," sneered
Harry at the shell-shocked portrait. "But that Mudblood was actually
the Heiress of House Slytherin. After my mother Lily Potter died, I
inherited her title. You should be honoured that I have bothered to
grace my presence in your home, Lady Black, because I am Lord
Slytherin!"
Walburga's eyes bulged out when she saw the Gryffindor and
Slytherin rings along with the Potter Lordship ring on his fingers.
"That blood-traitor you call your son is also the Lord of House Black,"
continued Harry angrily. "I do not take kindly to anyone insulting the
man whom I love as much as my own father. Sirius Black is the
Minister of Magic and has brought more glory to this family than you
and your ancestors ever did. You will remain silent and go to sleep,
is that clear, Grandmother ?"
"Yes," said Walburga quietly.
Harry simply flicked his wand and the curtains snapped shut,
plunging the corridor in silence. No one uttered a word, too awed or
horrified to speak. Some were blinking in surprise when Harry
referred to Sirius as his dad but none of them questioned him. The
reason for the change in title was due to Harry coming to terms with
what had happened at the graveyard; having come so close to
death, with Voldemort having nearly manipulated him into joining his
side, had struck a chord in Harry. It was only because of his family
that he had managed to hold on and not be swayed by Voldemort's
offer. Without Sirius and Amelia in his life over the past four years,
things would have turned out much differently for him, not all of them
good. This was the reason Harry had begun to refer to them as his
Mum and Dad.
Sirius and Amelia had been reduced to tears the first time Harry had
called them that. While Harry would always love and cherish his birth
parents, he also came to regard Sirius and Amelia as his adoptive
parents too and if someone were to so blatantly insult any of one
them, either James and Lily or Sirius and Amelia, it was his duty as
their son to defend their honour.
"That was bloody brilliant!" said George in awe.
"Scary, but brilliant," agreed Fred.
"And that, ladies and gentlemen is why you don't mess with Harry
Potter," said Dylan, grinning widely.
Harry rolled his eyes.
"I must say I didn't expect you to reason with my mother," said Sirius,
snickering. "You spoke her language and shut her up. I've said this
before but she would have killed to have you as a son. Life certainly
would have been interesting in this house had you been here all
those years ago. Father, Regulus and I would have definitely
enjoyed it."
"She's not the only one," muttered Harry, remembering Voldemort's
offer just a month ago.
Not everyone was impressed, though. Mrs Weasley looked horrified.
"Y-You know the Dark Arts?" she whispered, her face slightly pale.
Harry didn't bother dignifying her question with a response. "Where's
Dumbledore?" he asked.
"He's already left," said Sirius, sounding annoyed. "I told him that
you wanted to speak to him but he said that he will be back in an
hour or so; something important to take care of, apparently. He's
suffered an injury of some kind, so he's probably gone to Madam
Pomfrey."
Harry's eye twitched in annoyance but he silently followed his father
to the kitchen. There was a long table with people milling around it.
Harry sat down on a chair opposite to Sirius, with Dylan sitting next
to him. Dylan had taken to emulating his brother by observing his
behaviour, so unconsciously, quite a few of Harry's mannerisms were
inculcated into his everyday life; the facial expressions, the way he
carried himself – all of which were seen in Dylan as he sat down.
"Harry, Dylan," said Remus cordially as he shook hands with the two.
"How have you both been?"
"Just fine, Remus, thanks," said Harry, his face impassive again.
"Lord Potter, it's nice to see you again," Mr Weasley greeted him with
a warm smile.
"It is a pleasure, Mr Weasley."
"Let me introduce you to everyone," said Sirius quickly. "Harry,
Dylan, this is Arthur Weasley and his oldest son Bill, both of whom
you have already met at the Quidditch World Cup, his other son
Percy who works in the Department of International Magical
Cooperation, your cousin Nymphadora Tonks –"
" Don't call me Nymphadora, Sirius," she growled, her hair turning
red. "It's Tonks."
"Hi Tonks!" said Dylan brightly.
"Hey Dylan!" replied Tonks excitedly. Her smile became predatory as
she asked innocently, "Now what is this I hear about you and this girl
called Astoria Greengrass?"
Dylan just gaped at her in shock but once he recovered, he rounded
on his brother. "You told her?" he said, looking at him accusingly.
Harry looked at Tonks in slight disbelief. "What part of keep it a
secret didn't you understand?"
"Oh, come on, Harry!" Tonks huffed. "Like I wasn't going to tease him
after you told me about it."
"Moving on," said Sirius loudly, his eyes twinkling in amusement.
"As you already know, Tonks is an Auror and so are Kingsley
Shacklebolt and Hestia Jones," continued Sirius. "Then we have
Elphias Doge and Alastor Moody, Sturgis Podmore, Dedalus Diggle,
Emmeline Vance, Mundungus Fletcher and Molly Weasley."
"Everyone, this is Harry Potter and Dylan Lestrange."
Everyone in the room suddenly felt uncomfortable when Dylan was
introduced and Molly Weasley actually shuddered. Dylan acted as
though he hadn't seen it and politely greeted everyone.
"If we want dinner before midnight, I'll need help," snapped Molly
amidst the silence. Tonks enthusiastically got up, increasing the
noise level. Harry's fingers twitched when he saw many people
giving Dylan looks of suspicion and fear. He actually saw Moody
palm his wand.
"That's it," muttered Harry. "Come on, Dylan, we're going home!"
"Wait, Harry, where are you going?" asked Remus, many of them
stopped talking to stare at the tall teen.
"I came here to speak to Dumbledore. I did not come here to
socialise nor did I come here to meet the members of the Order of
the Phoenix. There is only so much I can handle before I blow up
and I do not appreciate the suspicious looks being directed at my
brother, so can you blame me for wanting to leave before I attack
someone?"
"It's not our fault," Diggle cried indignantly. "He's – he's Rabastan
Lestrange's son! How do you know that he can be trusted?"
"For all we know Lestrange might have convinced the boy to spy on
us," wheezed Doge.
"Constant Vigilance!" barked Moody, his gaze – magical or otherwise
– focussed on the young Lestrange heir. To his credit, Dylan didn't
react at all. His grey eyes were fixed on the ceiling, acting as though
he wasn't listening to anyone.
The temperature suddenly dropped and the windows developed
cracks. Harry's magic was leaking out of his body as he crumpled his
hand in a fist. Oh, how he badly wanted to curse those ignorant
fools!
"Harry, calm down," said Sirius quietly. "You can't change their
minds, I've already tried. Just don't bother with them."
"How do I know that he can be trusted?" Harry hissed, his voice very
quiet, eyes turning a shade of blackish green. "I know because he is
my brother and I love him with all my heart. I trust him with my life,
something which I can't say for the rest of you fools. The fact that
you judge someone by their name, a boy who has never once met
his father proves beyond a doubt just how bigoted you people are.
You believe the worst of him because he is a Lestrange; you
believed that my dad was a traitor because he was a Black and you
threw him in Azkaban without so much as a trail, shamelessly
breaking International law in the process; you hailed a baby as a
saviour but you couldn't be bothered to check on that said baby for
years, the result of which was me being nearly killed by those filthy
Muggles I call my relatives; you believe people can't be trusted just
because an enchanted hat puts eleven-year-old children in a
particular House. In the end, you are all just as bigoted as the dark!
You sicken me!"
There were cries of outrage at that statement but Harry ignored
them. Sirius closed his eyes in exasperation but he knew that Harry
was right; he himself had been like that before being thrown in
Azkaban for a decade, after all. Dumbledore had knowingly thrown
him in Azkaban and endangered Harry by placing the boy with the
Dursleys.
Barty Crouch too had authorised Unforgivables against suspects
during the last war and had sentenced numerous people without a
shred of evidence to support his claim, and the same man had
broken the law when it suited him, smuggling his Death Eater son
out of prison and hiding him in his own home for more than a
decade. It was times like this when he couldn't help but think about
what Harry had once said – who said there was a difference
between the light and dark?
Grabbing Dylan's arm, Harry walked out of the kitchen with people
following him. Just as he neared the door, he saw something. A
shrivelled old house elf, whose skin looked several times too big for
it, bald with white hair growing out of its bat-like ears, was standing
in the corner.
"Blood-traitors and half-blood brats are scurrying around the house,"
muttered the elf. "Oh, what would poor mistress say? Kreacher must
do something, yes, Kreacher can't let them stay, shame on the
House of Black ..."
For the first time in nearly two years, Harry was assaulted by a
memory as it rammed into his's conscious mind, making him double
over in pain.
"Harry!" shouted Dylan with worry as he tried to support his brother
from falling down.
He was standing in the middle of a small island, smirking in triumph.
This would be his greatest Horcrux yet – the locket of Salazar
Slytherin himself. The cave was of special significance because this
was where he had used a weaker, more primitive version of the
Cruciatus Curse for the first time. Of course, he had never known
about it back then, when he had used it on Dennis Bishop and Amy
Benson. He just knew it had hurt them because he wanted it to hurt.
The two of them should never have tormented him as they had.
He scooped up more of the potion to test it as he fed it to the houseelf
he had borrowed from Regulus Black.
"No, no more!" screamed the elf and he laughed at the pathetic
creature's plea for help.
"Master Regulus! Mistress Walburga! Kreacher can't drink! No more,
please, Kreacher doesn't want to drink more!" screamed the elf.
Dropping the locket Horcrux in the basin, he let the house-elf shriek
in agony and fear as he saw the Inferi grab the elf's frail hands. He
walked out of the cave, knowing that the elf would have been taken
inside the lake by now. Another Horcrux was secure.
Harry gasped for breath, clutching his head as the pain intensified.
He had not had one of Voldemort's memories barge into his
conscious mind like this ever since he had worn Rowena's diadem. It
had been just like the first time he had experienced it, but this time it
was excruciatingly painful; it was like having a Cruciatus Curse being
cast on his brain.
"Harry, are you okay?" asked Sirius worriedly.
"I-I'm fine," said Harry, panting hard but he collapsed against his
father as he threw up on the carpet, eyes rolling in their sockets.
"I think some bed rest would make him feel better, Sirius, don't you
agree?" Dumbledore suggested quietly as he watched Harry clutch
his head in pain, having just Flooed into the house. His worst fears
were confirmed. The connection he had always suspected to have
existed between the boy and Voldemort must have strengthened due
to the latter using Harry's blood for his resurrection. This was
dangerous. He would have to keep a very close eye on Harry in the
future.
"Dylan, take him to the second floor," said Sirius quietly. "Regulus'
bedroom should be free for you to use. I'll bring Lady Greengrass
here to check on him."
"Yes, Uncle Sirius," Dylan whispered as he wrapped an arm around
Harry's waist, helping him walk. Harry had still not recovered from
the torture he had suffered, no matter what he wanted others to
believe. The Cruciatus Curse had long term effects on the mind and
body and something must have happened which caused Harry too
much pain in a blink of an eye.
Entering the room which had Regulus' name, Dylan shut the door.
With a flick of his wand, he vanished Harry's clothes and tucked his
brother in bed. After ensuring that he was comfortable and fast
asleep, Dylan summoned his communication mirror and contacted
Daphne. A few minutes of conversation later, he undressed for the
night and quietly slipped into the covers beside his brother and
closed his eyes.
He couldn't return home without Harry and since his brother was in
no condition to Apparate or use a Portkey, they would have to stay
here for now.
Damn, how bad must Harry have been tortured for the effects to not
have disappeared even after a month