Harry lay there on the bed, his heart beating a mile a minute. What
was that? He had felt a shift in the wards! Closing his eyes, he
concentrated, but he could still feel a disturbance; it was like he was
seeing through a thick ice shard, which should not be possible. He
should have complete control. The frown on his face deepened.
"Tippy!" Harry called loudly as he got to his feet. There was no
answer. "Sally! Toby! Dobby! Winky!"
None of them answered and Harry's heart skipped a beat. Quickly
grabbing a pair of shorts that had been discarded on the floor
several hours ago, he donned them on, summoned his wand to his
hand, and rushed towards Dylan's bedroom.
Looking out of the window from the corridor, he realised that there
was probably no one outside. The disturbance came from inside the
castle. But then again, it was difficult to judge because of the sheer
size of the structure itself; the attackers could be anywhere but Harry
was sure beyond a doubt that the castle was under attack. He had
meticulously studied the protections employed at Potter Castle since
the age of seven, having been trained religiously by his ancestor's
ghost, and could walk the corridors and judge the wards blindfolded.
Something was very wrong.
Opening the door, he darted towards the bed.
"Dylan, wake up," whispered Harry hurriedly, removing the thick
blanket off his brother. Unfortunately, the resident of the room was
not in a mood to get up.
"Oh, Tori," Dylan whispered in his sleep as he rubbed his erect penis
against the soft mattress, a dopey grin on his face. He moaned in
pleasure when a sticky, white fluid erupted from the tip of his cock
and coated the bedsheets.
"Oh, great!" groaned Harry, rolling his eyes. "My brother is having a
wet dream! Dylan!"
He sent a stinging hex to Dylan's arse, making the younger boy yelp
as he sat upright in an instant, cum still leaking down his hard shaft.
Rubbing the sleep from his eyes while massaging his sore bum, he
murmured, "Harry? What are you doing here? Why did you wake
me?"
Tossing Dylan a pair of underwear, the only thing he could find at the
moment, Harry said, "We're under attack. Put those on and come
with me. We need to get to my study, so move quickly!"
Now completely awake, Dylan quickly complied and grabbed his
wand. The two brothers then quickly made their way out of the room,
carefully walking towards Harry's study.
"Harry, the portraits are all frozen!" whispered Dylan.
"Yes, I know," said Harry, his voice cold, simmering with anger. He
wondered for a moment if the wards were malfunctioning, but
dismissed the thought immediately. He and Sirius had replaced the
ward stones at Potter Castle and Black Manor just six months ago,
so it wasn't possible for them to have failed this drastically. Whatever
was going on was intentional. Someone was deliberately blocking
his remote control of the wards so that he couldn't sense their
presence.
"I sense something," whispered Harry, making them stop in the
middle of the corridor. "Wand at the ready! Fire whatever curses
come to your mind!"
"Aye," muttered Dylan.
They stood in the darkness, Harry having disabled the lighting
charms in the corridor. They waited for an opening; even though he
didn't have full access, Harry could still feel a distant echo, the
castle's protective enchantments warning him of a presence nearby.
Their enemies were close, very close.
The intruders were not prepared for the attack, but they did retaliate.
Flashes of spellfire illuminated the corridor, but the fight was over
before it truly began. The newly recruited Death Eaters were taken
by surprise and were just not prepared for the brutal assaults
launched against them, courtesy of Harry and Dylan.
"We've found them!" screamed one of the Death Eaters, but his
voice was drowned when a dark severing charm decapitated him.
The spellfire destroyed parts of the corridor, but all four attackers
were dead.
"There are more of them," said Dylan, his voice shaking with fright.
"How many are there?"
"Come on," said Harry, taking Dylan's hand in his as they moved,
reaching the Lord's study several minutes later; there was a secret
passageway that linked the family wing on the second floor to the
Lord's study on the first. Activating the lighting charms, Harry briskly
walked over to his desk. Dylan watched curiously as Harry sliced a
line on his palm and dropped several drops of blood on the desk,
making a silver round rune plate appear.
Pressing the runes with complete ease which he did not have when
he was seven years old, muttering various spells and passwords at
the same time, Harry connected to the wards. The intruders may be
able to block his remote access, but they had no chance of blocking
his link to the wards from the castle's command centre – his study.
Harry pursed his lips when he sensed twelve more of the intruders in
the castle. There were eight people nearby and the rest on the third
floor.
Harry took a deep breath.
"INTRUDER ALERT! Seal the castle! Piertotum Locomotor !
Security, place floors one through seven under lockdown! Armoured
Knights to the first floor in the north wing and third floor in the east
wing! Grounds Security, man the boundaries and ensure no one
enters or escapes!"
Dylan watched in awe as the lighting charms turned off but turned on
again, this time emitting a red glow from the ceiling, the alert charm
showing that there were intruders in the castle. The windows all
slammed shut and the armoured knights that he thought were for
display actually came to life – no doubt heavily enchanted – gripping
a lethal looking axe. He could not see it, but the various dragons,
chimaeras, manticores, griffins and other stone statues came to life,
patrolling the grounds as ordered. This was the reason Potter Castle
and even Hogwarts was said to be safe. The offensive structures
were just as deadly as the defensive wards.
"What do we do now?" asked Dylan.
Harry removed a large silver sword with egg-sized rubies on the
handle from a secret compartment on the wall. "Now, we bloody kill
them for daring to attack our home," snarled Harry furiously, his eyes
slowly turning jet black like a drop of ink expanding on paper, green
disappearing. "Stay inside this room, Dylan. I'll take care of those
bastards outside."
"I'm not letting you face them alone!" he shouted heatedly. "Harry,
please, let me help you!"
Harry looked at his brother for a moment but eventually nodded. He
passed a goblin-made silver dagger to Dylan. "Keep this with you,"
he said, attaching it to the waistband of the boy's underwear with a
sticking charm. "This sheath is made of basilisk hide and the dagger
is infused with venom. I can tell that there are werewolves here.
They're extremely agile even when not transformed. Stab them if you
lose your wand."
Dylan nodded with determination as they walked out of the study.
The corridor outside too was bathed in the dim red light from the
ceiling, the intruder alert in place. No sound could be heard from
anywhere because of the lockdown but Harry could sense the
attackers nearby.
"Dylan, they have us cornered," whispered Harry in his ear. "Four on
either side of the corridor, with us in the middle. Don't let them
escape. These two armoured knights will help you but more will be
on the way, okay? Do the best you can and stay safe. If you think
you can't handle it, rush to my study. They shouldn't be able to
penetrate its protection."
"Yes, Harry."
"Get ready … NOW!"
Flashes of light flew in all directions as the battle commenced. Harry
was right, there were werewolves in the attacking party and the
speed at which they dodged spells was incredible. Dylan used the
quick and effective spell-chains he had developed recently as he
fought with the best that he had. Severing curses, Reductor curses,
blasting curses, organ-liquefying curses, blood-boiling curses, bonebreaking
curses – anything which was lethal was being fired by the
teenage boy, but the attacking party did not seem to want to kill
them.
The armoured knights decapitated two of the Death Eaters with their
massive axes and Dylan winced as a cutting curse impacted his bare
chest, drawing blood. Nevertheless, he continued fighting. His
attackers were on the back foot, doing their best to avoid the strong
and precise spells Dylan was launching at them. Harry, on the other
hand, was blasting everyone back with ferociousness, his agility and
powerful spells giving him an advantage. One of the intruders, a
werewolf probably, was extremely agile and actually missed several
of Harry's targets. The three other Death Eaters were dead on the
floor, but Harry was duelling this particular werewolf with all his
might. He would have had a much easier time had they been
outside. Unlike Dylan, indoor duelling was not his speciality.
Greyback snarled as he fired another curse at Potter. Why couldn't
the brat just come silently? This was all that curse-breaker's fault!
What part of disabling the alert charms did he not understand? He
swiftly moved towards the other side of the corridor, still defending
himself against Potter's rapid assaults. Making his way to Lestrange,
he grabbed the boy by the hair after cursing him in the shins with the
same spell Rodolphus had used on Harry months ago.
Dylan's wand sailed out of his hand as the boy screamed in agony,
hands desperately attempting to cup his genitals. The Faux
Castration Curse, designed specifically to cause agonising pain in
order to distract the opponent by cursing the most sensitive part of
their body, seemed to work wonders. Greyback had gotten to him.
"One more move, Potter, and Lestrange shall die by my hand,"
snarled Greyback, panting hard, as he pointed a sharp knife at
Dylan's throat. "Drop your wand or I'll kill him!"
Harry now recognised who this was; he had seen him in Voldemort's
memories and he knew Greyback was not kidding when he said he
would kill Dylan. His eyes, still as black as the cosmos, focussed on
the werewolf, calculating a strategy to defeat his enemy as he
casually threw his wand away. To Harry's immense anger, he saw
blood trickling down Dylan's throat.
"Now, you both will quietly come with me," said Greyback, grinning
widely. "The Dark Lord wants you both unharmed but I'm sure that's
only because he wants to kill you personally. I can't wait to feast on
you both. Move it!"
Harry simply stared at Greyback.
"Call off your helpers, Potter, do you take me for a fool? Remember,
any funny move on your part and I'll slit Lestrange's throat!"
"Don't do it," said Dylan struggling, but the knife cut deeper into his
throat and he cried out in pain. It was not as bad as the pain
emanating from his groin, but it still hurt.
An idea flashed to him, but it was very risky. Harry had explained the
theory of infusing one's body with magic and he had been practising
it for over a year. Dylan concentrated as he infused his skull with
magic and tried to signal his brother with his eyes. Harry didn't
respond as they walked, his gaze not leaving his brother for an
instant. Suddenly, Dylan smashed the back of his head against
Greyback's face, the infusion of magic making the werewolf howl in
pain. Taking the opportunity, he grabbed the dagger and stabbed
Greyback in the chest, just as Harry joined him, the Sword of
Gryffindor gleaming under the lighting charms of the intruder alert, as
he in one swift stroke beheaded Greyback, making his head roll
over, the marble floor splattered with blood.
Harry sneered at the beheaded corpse of the notorious werewolf.
"Your life was hanging by a thread the moment you stepped into my
home, Greyback. This is for all those children whose lives you
destroyed by turning them into werewolves. Oh, revenge is indeed
sweet!" he said, savouring the moment, not caring about the fact that
he was covered in blood, a glint in his eye.
"Come on!" he said, grabbing Dylan's arm as they quickly made their
way to the study again.
Connecting to the wards directly, Harry smirked in satisfaction. The
four Death Eaters on the third floor had been killed by the armoured
knights.
"All sixteen of them are dead," he announced quietly.
He activated the lights in the study and made Dylan sit down. Harry's
bare chest and stomach were covered in cuts. There was also a
nasty gash on his left cheek. Dylan too had several cuts and bruises
but the most prominent was the one on his throat, which was
bleeding painfully. Harry waved his wand as he attempted to seal the
cut on his brother's neck. The latter, however, was whimpering as he
now had nothing to distract him from the pain.
"Does it hurt too much?" asked Harry worriedly. "I'm sorry, but I'm not
good at healing spells. We'll have a Healer examine you thoroughly,
don't worry."
"I'm fine," said Dylan through gritted teeth. "It'll pass, don't worry."
Harry shook his head. "Stand up," he instructed softly. When his
brother complied, he kneeled down, pulled Dylan's boxer-briefs
down to his ankles and tossed them aside. Dylan's breathing
became ragged when he reclaimed his seat and immediately
crossed his legs, trying to alleviate the pain by rubbing his thighs
together. Nearly a minute of gentle coaxing later, he finally scooted
his butt forward on the plush armchair and spread his legs wide.
After observing the younger boy's genitals for several moments,
Harry sighed, with a pained expression on his face, and stated, "Your
penis is erect and your testicles are swollen. That means –"
"No, they're not! I'm fine, Harry, I swear!"
"Don't be childish, Dylan! You were hit by the Faux Castration Curse
and denying it will not make the problem disappear! Your cock is
hard and this is not due to arousal – you were in a fight for your life
just minutes ago, for Merlin's sake! Your balls are definitely bigger
than their usual size and unless we treat it, they'll continue to swell
until they're twice as large as plums! The effects of the curse, if not
contained now, will quickly spread to the surrounding area. The
same thing happened to me after I was attacked in the graveyard,
remember? I endured it for nearly two months. Do you want to suffer
like that too?"
Dylan grimaced. He did remember and it was not something he
wanted to experience himself. The pain was unbearable and he
could already feel it spreading to his arse and thighs. Swallowing
heavily, he murmured, "Fine. Let's get it over with."
Harry summoned a container that was filled with the salve that
Madam Pomfrey had prescribed for him several months ago.
Following his brother's instructions, Dylan scooped up the paste but
the moment his fingers brushed against his ball sac, he whimpered
and downright refused to touch them again. Unable to reason with
him, Harry took over, not listening to his brother's pleas.
"Get on your hands and knees," he instructed. "That way, I can do it
all at once."
"Harry, please," the younger boy begged.
" Now , Dylan!"
Not having a choice, Dylan reluctantly moved to the carpeted floor
and got in position. Breathing heavily, desperately trying to handle
the searing pain shooting up his body, he waited. His face burned in
obvious embarrassment.
Not wasting time, Harry kneeled down, facing his brother's side.
Generously gathering the salve in both hands, he took a deep breath
and began applying it on the affected area, silently and in a
professional manner, slowly stroking the length of Dylan's erect
penis with his left fist while using his right hand to caress the
testicles. He personally knew how painful the effects of that
particular curse were, and even though he knew his brother was
currently mortified (as he himself had been when Rodolphus cursed
him months ago), treatment was absolutely essential. With an
expressionless face and pursed lips, his left hand still wrapped
around Dylan's thick cock, he collected more of the salve with his
right hand, and much to his brother's frustration, ran his fingers over
the crack of the boy's buttocks, soothing the anus, before moving his
attention to the testicles once more. Neutralising Dylan's tantrum
every now and then, he continued the process for nearly twenty
minutes.
"I hate you! I hate you!" the Lestrange scion shouted repeatedly. His
spread legs were magically frozen, and a sticking charm on his
hands and knees were holding him in place so that he couldn't kick
his brother – again – who was trying to heal him before the effects of
the curse could become chronic. With the salve currently being
applied over his anus, Dylan felt like an infant having his diaper
changed, and even though there was no part of him that his brother
hadn't already seen before, it was still probably the most
embarrassing moment of his life. And Harry just had to remind him
that it wouldn't be this bad if he simply chose to cooperate. He
wondered why that blasted spell wasn't classified as an
Unforgivable. It was every witch or wizard's nightmare, with no
effective wand-based counter-curse. Harry could preach all he
wanted, but at this moment, Dylan hated the Dark Arts.
"You don't mind the pain that accompanies nearly being slit in the
throat but you can't handle me healing you? Now I see why healers
get angry when patients refuse to cooperate." Harry shook his head
in exasperation. "Don't blame me for this; after you kicked me for the
fifth time, I wasn't going to take any chances. If you want to behave
like a child, then that's how I'll treat you. Really, Dylan, I feel like a
father trying to force his wayward, injured son to take his medicine!"
" Humph ! You just voiced my thoughts. Why don't you go all out and
de-age me into a three-month-old toddler? At least that way, I
wouldn't have to die of embarrassment!"
"I'd repeat the words you , brother dear, said to me several months
ago, when I was literally in the same situation as you are right now,
but I doubt you'd care. Did I say anything when you and Daphne had
to apply this on my body five times a day for weeks on end?"
Dylan made a noise of annoyance. "Actually, you did –"
"Fine, I did! But you know as well as I do that the pain is chronic and
that there is no other method of healing you. It's only me and not a
random stranger, so what's your problem?" Breathing heavily
through his nose, he continued, "Listen, I've healed the cuts on your
body and applied the salve wherever required, but we're still having
you examined by a healer. No excuses."
"Like I have a choice in the matter, Dad ," he shot back sarcastically.
"I hope you can live with the fact that your only son hates you.
Daphne is definitely my favourite parent, no comparison!"
Harry snorted, unable to hide a tired smile as he cancelled the partial
Body-Bind Curse. He helped his brother lie down on his back and
pressed a gentle kiss to the boy's forehead. "You'll get better soon, I
promise. Stay here while I contact the D.M.L.E. We need to find out
what's affecting my remote link to the wards."
Dylan sighed as he watched his brother activate the Floo network.
What a way to start the holidays.
That morning, Potter Castle was swarming with Aurors, searching
the grounds for other intruders and removing the dead bodies of the
attackers from inside the castle. In the formal drawing room, Sirius
Black was standing in the corner, his eyes bloodshot.
"How?" he asked again for what he felt like a millionth time.
"This instrument was used to get past the wards," said Harry grimly
as he pointed at the broken silver instrument on the coffee table. "It
had my blood powering it. The Death Eaters managed to freeze all
the portraits, put the house-elves in an enchanted sleep, and then
Apparated into the castle. I'm pretty sure they Apparated because
there is no other way they could have bypassed the stone fortress or
the moat around the castle. What that instrument is, I have no idea."
"They managed to use my blood against me to block my remote
access to the wards. I could only access them from the control
centre. We engaged the enemy and fought for a while, but Greyback
was too fast. He managed to hold Dylan hostage; he nearly slit
Dylan's throat in the process. Dylan managed to knock Greyback
away from him and stabbed him in the chest with a dagger imbibed
with basilisk venom. I then went forward and beheaded him. All
sixteen of them were dead by the time we were done."
"Pack your bags, you'll be staying with us for the rest of the
holidays," ordered Sirius. "I don't know what I was thinking, letting
you boys stay alone last night. I must be losing my mind."
Harry and Dylan looked at each other and nodded slowly. They had
been expecting this.
Sirius picked up the broken pieces of the silver instrument and
looked at it critically. An hour later, he walked down a long corridor in
the lowest level of the Ministry of Magic building. He entered the
password on the rune plate outside the black door and once he was
cleared, he placed his hand on the golden handle and swung the
door open.
"I have something for you."
POTTER CASTLE ATTACKED!
Sixteen Death Eaters and Werewolves attacked Harry Potter and
Dylan Lestrange
Siege foiled! All attackers killed by the two teenagers!
FENRIR GREYBACK KILLED!
Fenrir Greyback, notorious werewolf and international criminal
stabbed in the chest by Dylan Lestrange and beheaded by Harry
Potter!
Lord Potter and Minister Black tight-lipped about the attack!
Speculation rises about the secret defences of the ancestral home of
the Most Ancient and Noble House of Potter
KIDNAPPING ATTEMPT OR SOMETHING MORE?
Lady Amelia Black assures everyone that Lord Potter and Heir
Lestrange are safe and sound
Lord Voldemort threw the newspaper down in disgust. It hadn't
worked! Why hadn't it worked? The ward inhibitor should have
ensured that Harry was blind to the attack but apparently the boy
was not as oblivious to the knowledge of wards like he had
assumed. That had been a mistake.
He rolled his eyes at the drooling form of Peter Pettigrew. He had
taken his anger out on the rat and Wormtail was so badly tortured
that he was now permanently insane. He didn't care; it's not like the
stupid rat was useful for anything.
A familiar jet of green light impacted Pettigrew, killing him instantly.
Nagini slithered over for a feast.
"Not to worry, Rabastan. We will get them back. Once Harry and
Dylan are here, they will not leave until they join us."
"Are you sure they will join us, my Lord?" asked Rabastan hesitantly.
Voldemort laughed coldly. "They will if they know what's good for
them. They are too valuable for us to give up this soon. But first,
bring Draco Malfoy before me. I have a new plan in place and the
boy is testing my patience. I need him to succeed quickly should I
put my plan in motion. Having to watch his parents get tortured
should be enough motivation for the boy."
"Yes, my Lord," said Rabastan as he exited the throne room.
The Dark Lord was deep in thought. Yes, he would try to bring Harry
to his side one last time. Normally, he would not have cared at all.
The boy who had caused his downfall all those years ago should
have been his enemy that he would have hated with every thought,
but Harry wasn't like that. The boy was not what Lord Voldemort had
expected.
Harry was so similar to how he himself had been at that age; it was
surreal.
Similar, yet so different.
Voldemort knew that he was obsessed with the boy. True, he was
immortal and did not need an heir because he would never die, but
Harry was much more than that. Such power and knowledge should
not be wasted. The boy also had a dark aura about him. Powerful,
dangerous, intoxicating; only someone who had ritually increased his
magical sensitivity would know about it.
Harry Potter would make an outstanding Death Eater, and his natural
power would make the younger generation flock to him, and thus, to
the Dark Lord. There were also other benefits. Harry was an
international celebrity and his fame had spread throughout the
international magical world after that attack in 1991. If the Boy-Who-
Lived joined him, he, Lord Voldemort would be unstoppable. He
would be able to move his campaign abroad, conquering territories
one by one, leaving his personal assassin to maintain order.
There was something else which was nagging him. Harry had said
that he did not hate him, but why so? He had killed the boy's
parents, so why should the boy feel any sort of affection towards
him? But if he did feel some sort of affection, why did he not accept
the offer when he, Lord Voldemort, the most powerful Dark Lord in
recent times, had offered to accept the boy as his son and heir? He
knew that boy had been conflicted when he had mentioned it. He
would need to get to the bottom of this mystery.
Bellatrix's eyes were burning with fury as she saw the large picture
of Harry Potter and Dylan Lestrange on the front page of the
newspaper.
Dylan Lestrange ... the constant reminder of her failure as Lady
Lestrange and a wife was staring back at her, the grey eyes of the
boy taunting her. Yet another reminder that she could not bear
children and that a filthy Mudblood had given birth to the heir of
House Lestrange.
Daphne hugged her fiancé tightly, tears flowing down her face. Her
slim form was trembling as Harry hugged her back as he slowly
stroked her hair.
"Daph, we're fine," said Harry softly. "We managed to overpower
them."
"And what if you hadn't?" she whispered. "You and Dylan were
nearly killed!"
"Actually, they were there to kidnap us, not kill."
She took a deep breath, closing her eyes. Daphne was still shivering
when he pulled her in for a chaste kiss.
"Just promise me that you'll be more careful next time, please."
Harry smiled and placed a tender kiss on her forehead. "I promise,"
he replied, his warm breath tickling her ear.
Daphne buried her face in his chest, listening to his heartbeat as she
reassured herself that he was indeed alive. It had been a close call.
If Harry had not woken up when he felt that first disturbance, he
wouldn't be here at all. Both of them refused to let go of each other,
securely wrapped in each other's arms.
Her blue eyes were tinted white, glowing with barely suppressed
rage. Daphne Greengrass was furious at what had transpired and
her inner fire was burning like an inferno.
One day, she would deliver justice to those Death Eater bastards
that had nearly killed Harry and Dylan. Voldemort and his minions
were responsible for the sorrow of countless witches and wizards.
Even if she had to train night and day in preparation, she would not
rest until they were destroyed. Daphne vowed in the name of Mother
Magic that the Death Eaters would learn the true meaning of pain
before they were killed.
"Harry, Dumbledore wants to talk to you, he says it's urgent," Sirius
called out as he entered Rigel's room at Black Manor.
"What does he want now?" Harry snapped irritably as he got up from
the bed, his youngest brother nested in his arms, whose hair was
dark blue and eyes his favourite shade of green.
"Maybe he'll continue with your lessons," Sirius smirked. "The attack
must have given him an incentive to speed up his plans."
"Why doesn't he just say it outright and come clean about the
Horcruxes?" asked Dylan, frowning. "It would be much easier for him
to deal with, right?"
Harry shook his head. "No, I never expected him to do that.
Dumbledore likes to keep his options open and he'll seek the best
possible method of achieving his goals. He may be one hundred and
fifty years old, but his mind is sharp as ever. I'm curious as to why he
is dragging it on considering that his death is imminent, but we'll
know sooner or later. Come on Dylan, let's go."
"Hawwy! Dylee!" Rigel cried. "No go! I wanna play!"
Harry smiled as he kissed the two-year-old boy on the forehead.
"We'll be back in just a few hours, okay Rigel?" he said softly. "Now,
you be good for Mum, alright? If you are, I'll show you the birdie
eagle thing again."
"Yay!" Rigel cheered happily and all of them chuckled. Several
minutes later, they walked out of the front gates of the manor. Dylan
took Harry's arm as the latter turned on the spot and Disapparated
silently.
"I still don't get how you can do it so silently," the younger teenager
said as he adjusted to their new setting. They were back at
Grimmauld Place, London. Number 12 was visible to them because
they already knew the secret and they carefully walked up the front
steps. Sirius tapped the handle with his wand and the front door
opened. The house looked much cleaner now, and Harry and Dylan
had to blink their eyes in shock at seeing that.
"You're surprised that everything is clean, huh?" asked Sirius wryly.
"I was too. Kreacher apparently decided that any house belonging to
the Blacks must be clean. Also, after the destruction of the locket, he
got a rejuvenated sense of momentum. He's still the same and hates
me and everyone here, but at least it's not as bad as it had been."
"The Weasleys are staying here then?" asked Harry softly as they
moved towards the kitchen. Dylan stiffened immediately at hearing
that.
"Yes," Sirius replied sadly. "They've taken it very hard, all of them.
Molly is inconsolable and didn't stop crying for days. Bill is the new
head of the family and he seems to be keeping things stable. I told
them that they were welcome to stay at this house for as long as
they liked ... well, at least until they could deal with the loss. I don't
understand why the Death Eaters chose to attack at that time. It's
like they knew that the Order members would be on patrol in the
alley ..."
"What do you mean?" demanded Harry as he stopped them, tapping
his locket to activate a stronger privacy charm.
"Well, from the Pensieve memories I have watched of the attack,"
said Sirius slowly, "I could make out that Rabastan knew they would
meet resistance. While the others were busy blowing up the
buildings, he was keeping an eye out for someone. That's when
Arthur and Emmeline chose to attack."
"Snape," Harry said through gritted teeth. "Dumbledore would never
listen to anyone when they tell that Snape is not working against
Voldemort. He must have provided that information to Voldemort and
Rabastan. Damn, it's like the first war all over again. Will
Dumbledore ever learn from his mistakes?"
Sirius balled his hand into a fist angrily. Everyone in the Order, with
Mad-Eye Moody being the most vocal of them, had protested against
Snape's membership saying that they shouldn't trust him and yet
Dumbledore would never hear a word against him! Why? With the
state of the Wizengamot, he couldn't even be assured of a trial if he
arrested Snape. Dumbledore and Voldemort pulling the strings would
make it futile.
Something had to be done about Snape.
They entered the kitchen and saw everyone having dinner. The
mood was dark and gloomy and Mrs Weasley was still sniffing in the
corner as she prepared dinner. When the three of them entered,
there was complete silence. Of course, there was no Dumbledore
yet, so they had to wait. Fred and George got up to greet their
friends, just as Harry and Dylan walked over to give them a hug. The
shock was still too great as the twins began shaking, their sobs
silent.
"I'm so sorry for your loss," whispered Dylan. "If there is anything I
can do, please let me know."
George smiled slightly and shook his head. Suddenly, they heard the
crash of falling utensils as someone shouted, "How can you let him
in here?"
They all turned and saw Ron Weasley standing opposite to them, his
face red with anger. "You guys are actually greeting him?" he yelled.
" Him ! The son of Rabastan Lestrange! The same Rabastan
Lestrange who murdered Dad! And you're actually acting as though
you're friends with him?"
"Ron, go to your room," said Bill quietly.
"No!" shouted Ron angrily. "I can't believe you would consort with the
enemy! He is –"
"What am I?" asked Dylan quietly, holding a hand up to silence his
brother and guardian. "What am I, Weasley?"
"A traitor! A murderer! The destroyer of families!" screamed Ron,
furious tears streaming down his face.
"Ron, that's enough," said Bill firmly when he saw Sirius getting very
upset and angry. "Think about what you're saying! Go to your room,
now !"
"A traitor? A murderer? I destroy families?" asked Dylan, smiling
grimly. "I'll accept all those accusations levelled against me if you
can answer a few questions. Who did I betray to turn traitor?"
There were other members of the Order who had rushed into the
kitchen now when they heard people shouting. Some were openly
scowling at Dylan, but others were giving him wary looks.
"You betrayed us! How else would Dad have been killed?"
"I was at Hogwarts when the attack took place. I'm not a member of
the Order of the Phoenix for me to even know that your father was
on patrol in Diagon Alley, so how would I know that the Death Eaters
were going to attack him? If that's your only theory of why I'm a
traitor, then I'll humbly submit to you that I'm not. Next question, you
called me a murderer. Have you ever seen me or even heard a
rumour about me killing someone? Someone innocent, I mean. I
have killed, yes, very recently in fact, but it was in self-defence when
Death Eaters attacked our home. So, have I killed anyone innocent,
Weasley?"
When Ron opened his mouth, he stopped, blinking in confusion and
anger.
"I was not the one who murdered your father, Weasley," said Dylan,
his grey eyes glowing eerily. The floor beneath him cracked under
his rage. "As for destroying your family, would you still accuse me of
that if I had not been carrying the name of Lestrange? What if I had
gone by my mother's name instead? Would you and everyone else
here and at Hogwarts still have suspected me? You all look at me as
though I'm the one who betrayed you, but did it ever occur to you
that I might be a victim of the deeds of Rabastan Lestrange as well?"
"Have you forgotten that my mother was raped by my father and I
was born as a result? My mother died just an hour after giving birth
to me. I've never had a family, Weasley, unlike you who is
surrounded by people who love you. My mother only named me a
Lestrange out of spite, to make my father realise that he had sired a
bastard child, a half-blood at that. What do you think my father, uncle
or aunt would do if I ever run into them? Do you think there would be
hugs and tears that is expected of a family reunion?"
"I would be killed in an instant for daring to take the Lestrange
name," he said frostily, his voice rising steadily as his anger got the
best of him. "The family that prides themselves in being purebloods
for more than a thousand years now has an heir apparent who is a
half-blood and a bastard to boot. How did I destroy your family,
Weasley? How am I in any way responsible for what happened to
your father? Why does everyone blame me for my father's actions?
Let me repeat myself – I have never met him! I was born and grew
up in a Muggle orphanage. It was only on my eleventh birthday that I
even knew who my parents were. Not once have I contacted him or
have even wanted to contact him. Do you want to know why?"
Dylan walked over to Harry and Sirius and grabbed their arms.
"Because this is my true family! These people knew whose son I was
and still took me into their home with no expectations. For all they
knew I could have been a damaged, wayward child, but they still
took me in. They provided a roof over my head, food to eat and
education at the most prestigious school in Magical Britain. They
weren't obligated to do any of that and could have easily sent me
back to the orphanage, but they didn't."
"Harry, Harry , someone who is as emotionally detached as Harry
Potter accepted me as his brother and showered me with love and
affection. Uncle Sirius and Aunt Amelia did not have to treat me and
look after me like their own son, but they did. They're my family. I'm
sorry that you have lost your father, Weasley, but at least you had a
chance to know him. I never knew my parents. One is dead and the
other would kill me the second I face him. Both of them never
wanted me. At least your father loved you, your mother and siblings
love you. I can understand your grief, but I won't be able to stand
any more accusations against me. I hope you realise that I am
human too and I also have a limit beyond which I snap. Don't push
me ."
There was pin-drop silence in the kitchen as everyone looked at their
feet, feeling a twinge of guilt. Sirius squeezed Dylan's shoulder
comfortingly but the expression on his face showed that he was very
angry and upset. They heard someone clear their throat and turned
to find Dumbledore at the door.
"No one is accusing you, my boy," said Dumbledore quietly. "I hope
you can forgive young Ronald for his words. He is still quite griefstricken
over what happened."
"I understand, Professor," Dylan replied, though Harry could see a
blazing inferno in his grey eyes; clearly, he was furious. Magic was
rolling off his body and his aura flared as Dylan struggled to regain
control of his emotions. "It is only for that reason that I'm still calm
and haven't drawn my wand. Uncle Sirius, may I be excused?"
"Of course Dylan," Sirius said softly as he watched the boy leave the
kitchen.
Mentally he was kicking himself for not expecting such a reaction
from the others. Knowing that the boy needed comfort when his
emotions this volatile, he excused himself too. Both of them soon
exited the house and Apparated back to Black Manor. Dylan did not
want to stay at Headquarters for another minute and Sirius was very
much willing to take him back home.
"Harry, I think it is time we adjourned to our meeting," said
Dumbledore, leading him out of the kitchen.
Harry pursed his lips and schooled his expression to an impassive
mask as always. He sent a fleeting look at Ron Weasley – who was
looking anywhere but at him – and followed the headmaster out. He
could understand Weasley's grief, but as Dylan said, there was only
so much the boy could handle before he blew up. And Harry wouldn't
have blamed his little brother in the slightest if he had.
Harry and Dumbledore entered the drawing room and closed the
door. The headmaster flicked his wand and extracted the Pensieve
which he had brought with him as he smiled at the teen.
"I'm happy that you and young Dylan are safe, my boy," said
Dumbledore, though he looked quite tired. "It is for this reason that I
kept urging you to stay with Petunia, but you never listened." With a
sigh, he continued, "But what's done is done. Before we begin, I was
hoping to take a look at that device which Voldemort used to crack
an opening in the wards. Could you please show it to me?"
"I can't give it to you, sir. It's destroyed. Voldemort must have done it
remotely. After all, if he could use my blood to block my control of the
wards around Potter Castle, I could do the same to counter his hold
of any protective enchantments placed around his headquarters."
"I see," Dumbledore muttered, looking at the boy with piercing blue
eyes. "I hope you aren't lying, Harry, because that device is very
dangerous in the wrong hands."
"I don't lie," said Harry sharply.
Dumbledore observed him critically but let the subject drop. "So
Harry, I assume you remember the tale of Tom Riddle from where we
left off the last time?"
"Yes sir. You went to the orphanage to offer him a place as a student
at Hogwarts."
He listened attentively as Dumbledore continued to talk about Tom
Riddle's days at Hogwarts, but Harry had known about all this. He
knew that Tom had been devastated and angry when he found out
that his father was not a wizard and that his mother, the same
mother who had died rather than take care of him was actually a
witch. Harry was sure that this anger, coupled with his childhood
experiences in Muggle London during the Second World War, having
to brave the Blitz, was what made him research Horcruxes.
He might admire the young Tom Riddle for many things, but some of
Tom's choices really disgusted Harry, the opening of the Chamber of
Secrets for one, and also the creation of his Horcruxes. That was
when the intelligent young man that was Tom Riddle had
transformed into the power-hungry, insane Lord Voldemort who was
hell-bent on destroying the world for what had been denied to him.
Harry doubted Voldemort himself recognised the changes he
underwent. There was hardly anything left of Tom Riddle in
Voldemort today. Tom was never a saint, but then again, neither was
Harry.
Harry was quite impressed with the Legilimency skills Dumbledore
needed to uncover that memory from the mind of Morfin Gaunt and
from the mind of that old house-elf. He remembered both those
memories too. The first was the time when Tom had killed his father
and grandparents. The second was when he had killed the old
woman, Hepzibah Smith, and had stolen Hufflepuff's Cup and
Slytherin's locket. Finally, Harry blinked in surprise when
Dumbledore revealed a memory of Horace Slughorn that not only
mentioned the word 'Horcrux' but also revealed that Riddle was
intrigued by the concept of seven Horcruxes. It was a memory that
Harry remembered but never considered that important. But to
someone like Dumbledore, who didn't have access to the location of
each Horcrux, the information could very well be monumental.
"He wanted to create seven Horcruxes," said Harry quietly as they
emerged from the Pensieve.
"Yes," said Dumbledore as he sat down on the sofa tiredly. "This is
an extremely important memory, Harry; perhaps the most important
memory I have ever collected. It shows how far we have come and
what more is to be done to defeat Lord Voldemort. You may have
destroyed the diary and I, the ring, but that still leaves four more
Horcruxes of a seven-part soul. Thankfully, we've already identified
what two of those Horcruxes could be – Hufflepuff's cup and
Slytherin's locket, which Tom Riddle stole from Hepzibah Smith.
Finding out where Voldemort has hidden them will be a challenge."
"Understood," said Harry stiffly.
"Also, I must ask you again to not divulge this information to
anyone," said Dumbledore firmly. "Not even to your godfather, Harry,
because I hope you understand the magnitude of what I have just
shown you. If Voldemort gets wind of the fact that we're threatening
his Horcruxes, the devices that secure his immortality, the
consequences would be too dire for me to even contemplate."
Harry paused for a few seconds and gave another respectful nod.
Dumbledore seemed satisfied. Too bad Albus Dumbledore did not
know that Sirius already knew about the Horcruxes