Written in the Stars - Propositions

Propositions

Harry could only look on as the unconscious Cain continued to tremble throughout his disturbed slumber. The boy was sweating profusely having been taken by a fever and had yet to wake even for a moment in the past couple of days.

Everything possible was being done for him, but Harry refused to leave his side until he could see for himself that his friend would be okay.

He grimaced at the sight of the wounds along Cain’s neck.

They had been treated, and the fractured bones from their tussle had been repaired, but the werewolf was still gravely ill.

“Any change?” Cassiopeia asked as she returned to the medical bay.

Harry shook his head.

She along with Jonas’s and Cain’s parents had been sent for after the incident, but the latter of those invited had not arrived to check on their son.

“No, not yet.”

Cassiopeia rubbed his shoulder comfortingly.

“You were all very lucky,” she sighed, “even him,” she added, nodding towards Cain. “If you hadn’t managed to subdue him, there would have been little choice but to kill him.”

“I know,” Harry murmured. “That just makes what happened even more severe, doesn’t it?”

“Do they still not know how it happened?”

Harry shrugged, wiping the perspiration off Cain’s brow with a damp cloth.

“Not yet, but it wasn’t an accident, was it? Someone did this intentionally.”

“Which reminds me, there are things we must discuss as soon as possible.”

Harry nodded.

“There are,” he agreed, “more than you know.”

“How is he?” the healer asked as she stepped through the curtains that isolated Cain away from the rest of the medical bay.

“The same,” Harry answered.

“Well, I do have some news,” the healer sighed. “A considerable amount of a foreign substance was found in his blood.”

“Foreign substance?” Cassiopeia pressed.

The healer nodded.

“Unless he took it willingly, which is highly unlikely, he was spiked with Lunar Essence.”

“Lunar Essence?” Harry asked.

“It is a supplement used for plants that thrive during the peak of the moon phase. It is used to trick the flowers into continuing to grow so that they may be harvested quickly.”

“Could that have triggered his transformation?”

“Usually, it would not, but Cain was already feeling rather weak,” the healer explained. “Lunar Essence is highly poisonous to humans, and I expect the intention of whomever gave it to him was to trigger a transformation.”

“Well, it worked,” Harry pointed out.

“But not as I believe they intended,” the healer replied. “I believe the intent was indeed to trigger a transformation, but what happened was that Cain was almost fatally poisoned. I think being on the cusp of death is what spurred the change.”

“So, someone tried to kill him?”

“Or they got very unlucky and lucky at the same time,” Cassiopeia broke in darkly.

“Exactly,” the healer agreed. “I do not believe murder was the motive, but it came dangerously close, for several of you.”

It had been close, and none within the room had escaped unscathed, though much to the healer’s and Harry’s surprise, his wounds had been healed within less than a day without the need of her assistance.

Much to his relief, she had been too distracted with the state of Cain to question him on it.

Not that Harry had an answer for her beyond the speculation he’d received from Novak and Galanis.

“They’re either very knowledgeable in Herbology, or just generally a moron,” he mused aloud. “They either got it very wrong, or very right.”

The healer nodded her agreement.

“The good news is that he will be fine,” she declared. “I expect he will be unwell for some time, but he will recover. He is now over the worst of the poisoning.”

Harry breathed a sigh of relief as his gaze shifted to the werewolf.

Cain would feel awful when he woke and wouldn’t take it well when he learned of what had happened.

Still, Harry’s mind drifted to whom could have been responsible, but with the odd circumstances and outcome, it was difficult to be certain of anything.

Barkus had been the first he’d considered, and still was if truth be told.

He frowned at the thought.

Would Barkus stoop so low?

Did the boy believe Lunar Essence would transform Cain, or kill him?

Harry didn’t know which was worse.

If Barkus was simply as stupid as to attempt to poison someone, he had gone about it in a foolish way.

There were much easier and cleaner ways to kill someone using that method, and if that was his intention, then why would he have chosen Cain to be his victim?

It made no sense and only added credence to the less likely, yet more concerning alternative; whomever had poisoned Cain knew exactly what would happen by using Lunar Essence.

The thought was not a comforting one, but Harry could not imagine Barkus being so knowledgeable, though it was always possible that he had been given insight by another.

Regardless, the attempt had almost seen him and the rest of his roommates dead, and perhaps others if Cain had managed to run rampant.

“What are you thinking, Harry?” Cassie questioned as the healer left them to their vigil.

“I don’t know,” Harry replied thoughtfully. “Without any understanding of what the purpose was, we won’t learn who it was, and without knowing who it is, we won’t understand the purpose.”

“You have spent too much time with Albus,” Cassiopeia muttered. “Speaking of which, we must have a discussion, now.”

Waving her wand, she cast a series of privacy charms to ensure they would not be overheard.

“Karkaroff is in danger,” she revealed without preamble. “One of the men he gave up during his Death Eater trial is at large, and it is likely he will come after him.”

“What man?”

“Barty Crouch Jr,” Cassiopeia whispered.

“I thought he was dead.”

Cassiopeia shook her head.

“It turns out that his father broke him out of Azkaban and kept him under the Imperius Curse for several years until the boy broke it. Crouch Sr is in St Mungo’s after managing to do the same, but I wouldn’t expect him to live much longer. Malfoy is aware of his current state, and Crouch has been trying to tell the truth to any who will listen.”

“He’s as good as dead then,” Harry sighed, the dream he’d had before the werewolf incident beginning to make more sense now.

“I know you will not like this, but I want you to consider finishing your schooling at home,” she pleaded. “It could become dangerous here.”

Harry shook his head as he held up a hand.

“Where Voldemort is concerned, no matter where I go or what I do, I will always be in danger from him, even more so now,” he added, much to the confusion of the woman. “He’s back. He has a body of his own, and I expect it was Crouch and likely Lucius who has been helping him. Maybe Wormtail too.”

“He’s back?” Cassie questioned worriedly. “Are you sure about this?”

Harry nodded darkly.

“I saw it happen. He underwent a ritual to get a body back and was successful. It’s only a matter of time before things begin happening, and it won’t matter if I am here or at home. One day, he will come for me, or if I am ready before, I will find him.”

Cassiopeia had paled considerably as he had spoken.

“No, we must keep you safe, Harry.”

He offered the woman a smile as he pulled her into his arms.

“I’m as safe here as I would be anywhere else, and I will not have my life dictated by him. But you must find a way to tell Dumbledore. Voldemort will not wait before beginning his resurgence.”

“And what about you?” Cassie asked.

Harry shrugged.

“I continue preparing as long as I can, until I’m ready or I am no longer given a choice in what happens,” he answered. “We knew this day would come.”

“But not so soon,” Cassie whispered.

“Not so soon,” Harry sighed, “but it could be much worse. With me here, he will not focus on getting to me so much, not when the task will be easier when I graduate. That gives me the best part of a few years. It will be Britain that suffers in that time. How much depends on how long the Ministry will ignore the problem, and with the prat Fudge as Minister, and Malfoy pulling his strings, nothing will be done to prevent it before it is too late. I don’t suppose we will be getting the return we hoped for, well not as such.”

“I dreamed of the day you would walk into the Ministry and accept both of your titles,” Cassie murmured.

“Oh, I will still be doing that,” Harry assured her, “but when the time comes for me to do so, I don’t expect my presence will be so welcomed by most.”

“You have that look of mischief, Harry,” Cassiopeia sighed.

“Mischief? Now, why would I do something mischievous?”

“Because that is just how you do things.”

“Not when it comes to anything to do with him,” Harry said dismissively. “To some, my intention may appear to be mischievous, but towards Tom and those that have chosen to follow him, my intent will always be one of malice and destruction. This no game. Each of them will suffer every misery I can inflict upon them.”

Cassiopeia nodded.

“I will inform Albus of what has happened,” she assured him. “Are you sure you will be okay?”

Harry nodded.

“As long as he is,” he replied, nodding towards the slowly stirring Cain.

Cassiopeia offered him a smile and pressed her lips against his cheek before bidding him farewell.

Both had much to think about and knew that the news that each had broken would mean only changes from here on out.

What changes they would be, neither could be sure, but change was coming, and it remained to be seen just what was to come.

(Break)

The Dark Lord marvelled at his pale, bony hand. It was nothing like how it had once appeared. His fingers were now longer, and thinner, but that did not prevent him from wielding his wand with the same practised ease.

The ritual had been a resounding success.

He’d had his concerns that perhaps all of the work he had put into becoming far beyond the norm in terms of magical power and ability would have been absent upon his return.

Those concerns, however, had been for naught.

He felt as powerful as ever, his wand work as fast, crisp, and devastating as it had been before Halloween of 1981.

Once more, he felt invincible, that he could take on the world and emerge victorious.

That he would do.

For now, he remained in Albania, but soon, he would be ready to make his triumph return to Britain.

He could not wait to see the faces of those that believed him dead, to revel in the fear that would grip when they saw him again, risen from the dead.

The thought brought an anticipatory grin to his lips.

“What do you have to report?” he asked his gathered Death Eaters.

They had come when called, but even behind their masks, they could not hide the guilt and unease they felt in Lord Voldemort’s presence.

It was not as though they had anything to fear any longer.

Those that had denounced him in the past had been punished thoroughly, and the thought of doing so again would not dare cross their minds.

“My Lord, Azkaban is as poorly guarded as Lucius suspected,” Macnair answered. “You could free the others any time you wish.”

Voldemort nodded.

“Something I will do soon,” he declared.

“My Lord, I would urge you to wait,” Lucius broke in. “I know that they are important, and I like that you look forward to having those imprisoned amongst our ranks once more, but I do not believe now is the right time. We must take things cautiously until we are certain of who are allies, who can be swayed to comply, and those that must be dealt with. I have already begun the process and ask you for time to complete it.”

Voldemort nodded thoughtfully.

Diplomacy was something he often felt was a weakness, but Lucius was the most politically astute man he knew, and despite not wanting to wait any longer than necessary, he would grant the request.

As much as the Dark Lord despised the thought, he would still require a functioning government when he took power.

One made up of like-minded individuals of course.

“Very well,” he agreed reluctantly, “but be quick about it, Lucius. My patience is not endless.”

“Of course, My Lord,” Lucius replied with a bow.

Voldemort nodded satisfactorily.

“And what of the Minister? You have spent much time with him over the years.”

“Fudge is weak,” Lucius answered simply. “He is easily influenced, and our best option until you are ready to appoint someone else. If anything were to happen to Fudge, any of his possible replacements would present problems for us.”

“Who would the replacements likely be?”

“Rufus Scrimgeour would be a favourite,” Lucius replied thoughtfully. “He is well-respected, a talented former auror, and would quickly bring about the same laws Bagnold eventually introduced to combat us. That must be avoided.”

Voldemort nodded his agreement.

It had been fortunate that he and his Death Eaters had already paved the way for a great victory before he had unexpectedly made his grave error in Godric’s Hollow.

With the powers granted to the aurors to use lethal force, the tide could have been turned had they been introduced earlier in the conflict.

No, it would not do for his followers to be killed during their raids.

“Any other?” the Dark Lord pressed.

“Amelia Bones,” Lucius answered severely. “She is the Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, and with good reason. She is a dangerous witch, My Lord. Perhaps only yourself, and Bellatrix would be capable of defeating her alone.”

“I remember her well,” Voldemort mused aloud. “She and Moody were quite the thorn in my side. Perhaps she should be delt with quickly.”

“I would urge it, My Lord,” Lucius returned, the other Death Eaters nodding their collective agreement.

It was certainly something to ponder, and Voldemort would do so soon enough.

Until then, however, there were other things to discuss with his followers.

Turning to another of them, he allowed his gaze to roam over the man.

Severus, even without a mask, was unreadable.

His self-control, even in the presence of his master had never wavered, despite having the most questionable loyalty.

No, Severus was loyal to only one, and that was himself.

Still, with his brilliance in potions and is undeniable talent with a wand, he was much more use alive than dead.

Although, whether or not he continued to breathe depended solely on how useful he remained.

The Dark Lord would not hesitate in killing the man if he believed it to be necessary.

“What of the old fool, Severus?” Voldemort asked.

“As you say, My Lord, he is an old fool, one who has only tired,” Snape replied carefully. “He never truly posed a threat to you and is even less of one now.”

Voldemort’s lips curled into a slight grin.

“He will die,” he declared simply. “He will be the first.”

“How, My Lord?” Severus pressed.

“It would be simple enough to have you do it,” Voldemort mused aloud, his eyes narrowing as the merest flicker of concern crossed Snape’s returned gaze. “No, you are of more use to me in the castle than out of it. Even when Dumbledore dies, we will need someone inside Hogwarts.”

He showed no sign of it, but the Dark Lord expected that Severus was feeling a wave of immense relief.

“That leaves only one other,” he continued. “Harry Potter.”

At the mention of the boy, a sudden tension filled the room.

The one blemish that stained his reputation was evidently still a point of worry for the Death Eaters who looked to one another questioningly.

“You would have interacted with him during his time at the school, Severus. Tell me, what impression did he leave on you?”

“He attended only a handful of my lessons, My Lord,” Snape explained. “During my observations of him, he was quiet but confident. Still, he is no one truly of consequence.”

“Of course,” the Dark Lord replied, though he could not dismiss the prophecy that had almost caused his downfall.

“If I may speak, My Lord?” another requested.

“You may, Warrington,” Voldemort allowed with a frown.

He did not like being interrupted in such a way, but the boy was new here.

He would learn his place soon enough.

“Potter used to eat with us,” Warrington revealed. “On his first night at Hogwarts, he threatened us.”

“Threatened you?”

Warrington nodded.

“He said that it would not be a good idea to hold a grudge against him, that he was willing to leave the past where it was.”

“How very interesting,” the Dark Lord hissed gently. “And did you?”

Warrington shook his head.

“Draco did not take kindly to being threatened.”

Voldemort’s gaze shifted towards Lucius.

“He wrote often about Potter, My Lord,” the blond sighed. “Potter holds no respect for those above his station, and Draco wished to know how to deal with him.”

“And what advice did you give?”

“To do nothing foolish,” Lucius answered. “From my own brief interaction with the boy, as I already explained to you, he came across as confident and willing to question myself and Fudge. He even managed to convince the Minister to discontinue searching for Black in light of Wormtail’s re-emergence.”

“Did Draco take your advice?”

Lucius shook his head disappointedly.

“He did not,” Warrington broke in. “He tried to find a way to get back at him. Something that came at my expense.”

“Your expense?”

“Draco goaded Potter, and when I stepped in to defend him, Potter attacked me. He seems to be talented, My Lord, but not on your level, of course.”

Voldemort hummed thoughtfully.

The more he learned about Potter, the more interesting the boy became.

“What will you do about the boy, My Lord?” Lucius questioned curiously.

“We will meet when the time is right,” the Dark Lord answered cryptically. “For now, he is of no concern. He is at Durmstrang and will remain there for the next few years.”

“Would it not be best to have him eliminated quietly?”

Voldemort shook his head.

“No. There is to be no harm brought upon him,” he said firmly. “He is mine to kill, and mine alone. Durmstrang is likely as secure as Hogwarts, and in such a harsh climate, it is unlikely any will be able to get in, let alone navigate the building effectively enough to get to the boy. No, he is not as important as securing Britain. Our time to meet will come. It is inevitable.”

The Dark Lord fell silent for a moment.

If he had his way, Potter would be dealt with soon, but he could not prioritise his vengeance over the rest of his legacy.

Harry Potter could never hope to amount to him, and if the prophecy truly held any credence, their fates would align eventually.

“That is all,” Voldemort announced dismissively. “Continue as you are, and report anything of substance to me.”

He watched as the Death Eaters filed out of the room and turned to the one cloaked figure that remained.

“Your pack is to remain where it is, for the time being,” he decided. “It would not do to draw so much attention to such a large gathering of werewolves crossing the continent.”

“That is your final word on the matter?” Greyback growled as he stood.

Voldemort nodded.

“Your time to feed will come, old friend,” he assured the hulking creature. “For now, we must exercise patience. I can assure you the feast will be worth it.”

Greyback was not pleased, but he knew better than to question further or press his luck.

“Fine,” agreed before stomping from the room, leaving the Dark Lord alone with his many thoughts.

(Break)

His eyes fluttered open, but the stark whiteness of his surroundings forced them to snap shut. And then, the pain and nausea made themselves known. It took all the effort he could muster to not vomit, and as he took some deep, calming breaths, the fractured memories of what had happened came flooding back.

Cain groaned as he felt a hand close over his own and he shook his head.

“Water,” he croaked.

A glass was given to him and he drank thirstily, draining it in only a few gulps.

When he opened his eyes again, the light no longer burned, but his body still ached, and the soreness remained.

“What happened?” he asked.

He heard a deep sigh being released.

“Do you want the unpleasant truth, or a complete lie?” Harry asked.

Cain chuckled humourlessly.

“It’s not like you to lie.”

“The truth it is then.”

Cain felt himself filled with utter horror as Harry explained the events that led to him being there, though by the time he was done, he felt only guilt.

How he was still alive, he didn’t know, but he knew he had Harry to thank for it.

As guilty as he felt, a sense of shame overcame him too.

It was no secret that he was a werewolf, but he never wanted his friends to see that side of him, and now, he couldn’t even bring himself to look at Harry who was still somehow holding his hand.

“Feeling guilty won’t change anything.”

“I could have killed you, or anyone else.”

“True,” Harry conceded, “but you didn’t.”

“You could have killed me,” Cain pointed out. “No one would have blamed you if you did.”

“I would have,” Harry sighed. “You don’t deserve death for what you are or the actions of others, and no one else thinks you do either.”

“Not even Jonas or Hugo?”

“They were shaken up by the whole thing,” Harry admitted, “but they’re both fine. They just want you to get better. They’re all worried about you, even Lucinda.”

Cain snorted humourlessly.

“I bet she wanted to kill me.”

“You have no idea,” Harry snorted, “but when she realised what had happened, she even came to visit you. Don’t worry, I made sure she didn’t bite you. I even got to meet Jonas’s Mum.”

“Is she really a hag?” Cain asked curiously.

Harry nodded.

“Honestly, I’ve never seen someone so hairy and disgusting, not even you when you transformed. I don’t know how his Dad…well, you know.”

Cain grimaced at the thought.

“Have my parents visited?”

When Harry did not answer, Cain finally turned to look at him.

“They have not.”

Cain merely shrugged.

In truth, he wouldn’t expect his mother or father to leave the pack, not with how much effort both were going to in an attempt to ingratiate themselves with Greyback.

“It doesn’t matter.”

“It does,” Harry countered irritably. “You almost died and they didn’t bother coming. Bloody hell, if Jonas’s hag mother can be here, why can’t your parents?”

Cain did not know what to say.

How could he explain the complexity and transition that was happening within his home?

The pack was different now, the promise of a better future having consumed them, his parents included.

“Do you remember when I said you were like a wolf?” Cain asked, changing the subject. “Well, I was right, wasn’t I?”

“You were,” Harry agreed with a frown.

It seemed that he wished to press further, but much to Cain’s relief, he thought better of it.

“Is there anything I can get you?”

Cain shook his head.

“No, I just need more rest.”

Harry nodded his understanding as he stood.

“I’ll let the others know how you’re doing, and then I’ll be back.”

“You don’t have to spend all of your time here,” Cain grumbled.

“I do,” Harry returned evenly. “Whatever was done to you was no accident. I can promise, I will find out who was behind it, and when I do, I will ensure their stay in the medical bay is much longer, and less comfortable than yours has been.”

“Harry, no…”

The boy held up a hand to silence him, and immediately, any protest Cain felt like making died on his tongue.

There would be no changing Harry’s mind.

He was as stubborn as anyone Cain had met, but also much more caring.

Besides, he was a wolf too, and one that had proven he was the leader of their own little pack within Durmstrang.

Cain was no alpha, so it was his place not to argue.

“Thank you,” he replied simply. “And thank you for not killing me.”

“Well, I did think about it,” Harry said with a grin. “Maybe next time.”

“I hope there is no next time.”

“Me too,” Harry chuckled. “Fighting a werewolf without a wand is not fun.”

With that, Harry took his leave from the room, and though Cain was tired, he didn’t feel much like sleeping. Instead, he pulled the duvet over his head, unable to ignore the flashes of memories of what happened.

Inevitably, his thoughts shifted to his parents.

Harry was right.

He had almost been killed and they had not come, nor had they even sent a message of any kind.

They were supposed to be his pack, but it didn’t feel like that anymore.

Cain’s pack truly was here, with Harry and the others. If they still wanted him, of course.

Being a werewolf, he was used to being seen as an outcast, and it was something he had always lived with.

However, he did not wish to be such among the only ones that had accepted him for what he was.

Without a pack, he was nothing.

“The lone wolf dies,” he murmured.

Was he a lone wolf now?

No, Harry would never allow that to happen.

Despite everything that had happened, Harry would always be there to look out for him.

Of that, Cain had no doubt.

(Break)

“We must assume the worst and that Harry is right,” Gellert sighed, the news he’d received not welcome, but something he had expected to occur sooner or later.

“He’s not ready, Gellert.”

“He’s not,” Gellert agreed, “but when the time comes for them to face one another, he will be.”

“How can you be so sure?”

“Because Harry is no fool. He will not seek him out until he is ready to do so. If when he finishes school he chooses to return to Britain, do you truly expect him to simply confront Voldemort?”

Cassiopeia frowned at the thought.

“No,” Gellert continued. “The conflict that is to come will not simply be a meeting between them. Harry will want to rid Britain of his followers first. He told me that himself.”

“It doesn’t make me feel any better that he is going to go after other dangerous people,” Cassie groaned.

Gellert chuckled.

“Is this not what you have been preparing him for?” he asked.

“Forgive me for not wanting him to be harmed,” Cassiopeia returned dryly.

Gellert released a deep breath.

“You love him, and it is understandable that you worry, but Harry is going to get hurt. When he returns to Britain, it will be to war. As much as Albus wishes he can fend off Voldemort and his followers, he does not have the guts to do what is necessary for that to happen.”

“So, it will be up to Harry to clean up his mess?”

“Yes,” Gellert answered simply, “and you now as well as I do that Harry will not be satisfied with anything less. He is a kind boy, compassionate and caring to those he holds dear, and for that, we should both be eternally grateful. However, you know better than any the anger and pain that he harbours. Bringing Voldemort and those that follow him to justice is the only thing that will rid him of that. Only then will he truly be able to let go of what happened to his parents. Yes, he must endure more suffering along the way, as is the nature of war, but it will strengthen him and steel his resolve.”

Gellert’s words did nothing to assuage Cassiopeia’s worries.

“And what if he dies?”

“Then he will do so pursuing his righteous vengeance, and no one, not even you has the right to deny him that.”

Cassiopeia snorted humourlessly.

“You know, it’s easy to forget that you were once such a feared man, but when you speak of what it is that Harry must do, I’m reminded of how callous and blunt you can be.”

Gellert’s expression softened.

“I care for him too,” he murmured, “but I also understand the path he must tread and what he must do. For him to ever feel any semblance of peace and happiness, he must experience and create misery of his own. This is the way of life for people like him. It is not fair, but fate never is.”

“Fate?” Cassiopeia scoffed.

Gellert nodded.

“There is greatness in him, Cass, and with all great men, fate has its part to play. I do not believe Harry will perish in his efforts. Suffer? Yes, but I believe in him so wholeheartedly that I do not worry for him. He will succeed where all others fail, and he will be cemented in History as a giant among men.”

“He will be,” Cassie murmured. “Did you know that he has already achieved a full Animagus transformation?”

“Has he indeed?” Gellert asked amusedly.

Cassiopeia rolled her eyes.

“It was how he subdued the werewolf. He did not have his wand, so fought with it until it submitted to him.”

Gellert chuckled as he shook his head.

“I don’t believe there is much he could do that would surprise me,” he sighed. “It is quite the feat, don’t you think?”

“It is,” Cassie agreed reluctantly, “but I wish he would not do these things without discussing them with me.”

“And if he had, would you have given permission?”

“Absolutely not!”

“Therein lie the answer as to why he did not speak with you,” Gellert pointed out. “He does not have time to be coddled, Cass. Now more than ever, he must be ready. It is our job to guide and educate him. He will make mistakes, but so long as he learns from them, he will be a better man.”

Once more, Cassiopeia reluctantly agreed.

“I asked him to leave Durmstrang,” she revealed. “In light of Crouch being on the loose and what happened with his friend…”

Gellert held up a hand to silence her.

“Durmstrang is one of the most secure locations in the magical world,” he said firmly. “Despite what happened with his friend, it is the safest place for him. Voldemort cannot get to him there.”

“What if he does?”

Gellert released a deep breath before reaching for a piece of parchment and quill.

For a few moments, he scratched away whilst Cassiopeia looked on curiously.

“Give him this,” he instructed as he handed the note over. “It is instructions on two emergency exits I found during my time there. I doubt he will need to use them, but if it sets your mind at ease, he at least has a way out of the school should he need to depart suddenly.”

“Thank you,” Cassie said gratefully as she pocketed the parchment, “but what of Karkaroff?”

“Did you see him when you visited?”

Cassiopeia nodded.

“To keep Harry safe, he either needs to leave the school or be dealt with on a more permanent basis.”

“You would need for him to leave the school to achieve the latter,” Gellert replied gravely. “The security measures to protect the Headmaster are second to none. Attempting to kill him whilst he is in Durmstrang would be foolish. So long as Karkaroff is safe behind the walls, Harry is equally protected.”

Cassiopeia was not appeased, but she would take Gellert’s word for it.

There was likely no other alive who knew the school as well as him.

“So, I just leave things as they are?”

Gellert nodded.

“Unless anything changes, it is for the best. Now, what form is it that young Harry has taken?”

(Break)

‘Levicorpus,’ Harry recited internally, flicking his wand towards the training dummy across the room from him.

He watched in fascination as it was hoisted into the air and dangled upside down.

A grin tugged at his lips.

This spell would provide him with hours of entertainment.

Perhaps Jones should be his first victim?

Flicking through more pages of the book he had taken from Snape’s cupboard; he came across another spell that piqued his curiosity.

“For my enemies,” Harry murmured, reading the accompanying note aloud.

There was no description of the effects, and with a shrug, he levelled his wand towards the dummy once more.

“Sectumsempra!”

His eyes widened as the spell tore through his unmoving foe, the three gashes that appeared across the torso being long and deep enough that if the dummy had been a real person, he would likely be able to reach in and remove the heart with his bare hands.

Harry had many cutting and slashing curses in his arsenal already, but this was seemingly a spell that the self-styled Half-Blood Prince had created themselves.

That meant very few were likely to know of its existence, making it an exceptionally useful spell, and one that would undoubtedly be fatal.

As Harry reflected on the memory of putting the book to use, it was difficult not to draw his wand and cast it at the smugly grinning Barkus.

Word of what had happened had gotten around quickly, though the details seemed to have been skewed and exaggerated.

Some believed that Cain had found a way to transform at will, and that he had done so intentionally to murder his roommates so that he would have the space to himself.

Others believed that Harry too had become a werewolf, and the two of them had fought for dominance.

Thus far, none had questioned him on the events, and those that had attempted to press Jonas and Hugo had been met with silence.

With all the exaggeration and speculation, the truth had seemingly been lost.

None believed Harry had turned into a wolf. Something he was grateful for.

“If looks could kill, Barkus would be dead,” Jonas sniggered as he took a seat next to Harry in the Main Hall.

“My looks might not, but my wand could do it quite easily.”

Harry frowned as the other boy placed a hand on his wrist to prevent him from drawing it.

“Let him think he has gotten away with it,” Jonas urged. “Don’t do anything stupid to get yourself in trouble. It’s what you would be telling any of us to do.”

“He’s not wrong,” Eleanor chimed in. “Barkus is a shit, and he will get what is coming to him, just at the right time.”

“Why do you have to ruin my fun with logic?” Harry grumbled.

“Because you can be a reckless moron at times,” Lucinda huffed, sliding him closer to her effortlessly. “Now, if mummy Lucinda has to sit you next to her to stop you being an idiot, then you’d best get used to my alluring scent.”

“Ah, so you’re a veela now, are you?” Jonas snorted.

Lucinda bared her fangs at the boy.

“Oh, you stupid son of a hag, I’m much more dangerous,” she whispered. “A veela may ensnare or burn you, but I can give you an eternity of misery if I sink my fangs into your neck. Isn’t that right, Harry?”

Harry shuddered at the closeness of the girl.

He’d never met anyone who could have such an effect on him.

Lucinda frightened and teased him in equal proportions, but she was right about many things.

Her own scent was unique; a musky, yet powerfully feminine aroma that seemed to grow stronger with each passing year.

He merely nodded in response; his mouth having gone dry under the intensity of her gaze.

“I wish the two of you would get a damned room,” Jonas grumbled.

“Maybe when Cain comes back, she can come into ours,” Harry snorted.

“Would you like to see me wrestle with a wolf, Harry?” Lucinda asked innocently before leaning in closer once more. “You could always transform and have a go yourself.”

Again, Harry shuddered.

Lucinda seemed to take his Animagus form as a personal insult to her.

Vampires and wolves did not typically get along, and neither she nor Cain had made any secret that when they graduated from Durmstrang, they would likely not see one another again.

“Why bother transforming?” Harry asked, composing himself. “I’ll wrestle you like this. I’d be thrown around like a dog toy, but I’d give it a go.”

The others laughed whilst Lucinda raised an eyebrow at him.

“Me, throw you around?” she giggled. “Oh, you mean this.”

Without another word, she seized him by the front of the robes with one hand and lifted him out of his seat.

Harry could only dangle helplessly as the girl grinned at him.

“I am rather strong,” she declared. “Do remember that, Harry.”

“How could I forget?” Harry muttered after Lucinda released him. “You’ve spent the better part of four years pinning me down. It’s very emasculating you know.”

“Well, I could always let you pin me down, if you’d like?” Lucinda returned sultrily.

Harry could only shake his head in response.

The vampire truly had an effect on him that no other did. It was as amusing as it was worrying, but he knew Lucinda well enough to know that she meant him no harm.

After everything he had gotten away with in the past, if she truly wished that upon him, it would have happened by now.

“How is the werewolf?”

“Awake,” Harry answered. “It will take him some time to get over this, so take it easy on him.”

Lucinda nodded.

“Tell him I said I’m glad he’s not dead.”

Harry chuckled.

That was about as sentimental as any could expect from her.

“Why don’t you tell him yourself?” Harry asked. “You should all visit. It would mean a lot to him.”

“We will go now,” Eleanor declared, her tone leaving no room for argument. “Come on.”

Having finished their lunches, the group took their leave of the Great Hall, but as Harry stood to join them, Eleanor offered him a pointed look.

“Not you,” she insisted. “You need to get some rest. He will understand.”

Harry nodded gratefully.

He had barely slept in days, and though he didn’t need much of it to get him through when needed, he was drained and barely able to think coherently, as demonstrated by his almost cursing of Barkus.

There wasn’t even any proof that he was involved, but if he was, Harry would learn of it.

“Thank you,” he said gratefully, and the blonde offered him a bright smile before following the others.

With an amused shake of his head, Harry decided to take her advice and began making his way back towards their Common Room.

At least he would not be woken by Cain’s snoring, or Jonas’s habit of talking in his sleep.

Was that a hag thing?

He made a note to ask the boy.

“Potter!” a voice whispered harshly as he passed one of the rarely used Charms classes.

Harry turned to see Zabini gesturing for him to enter, and when he did so, the door was closed behind.

“So, I finally manage to get you alone,” the girl said with a mixture of frustration and amusement. “Have you been avoiding me?”

“No,” Harry denied immediately. “We’ve still been duelling, haven’t we?”

“You know what I mean, Potter.”

Harry shook his head.

“I haven’t been avoiding you, but after what happened…”

Zabini quirked an eyebrow in his direction.

“Look, I’m not trying to marry you. No offense, but I have no intention of being married to a stuffy, British Lord. I’ll end up being married off to someone eventually, but it won’t be you. For now, I just want to enjoy myself, and I would like that to be with you.”

“With me?”

Zabini nodded as she stepped closer to him.

“No commitments, no problems, and no one has to know,” she all but insisted. “Just some memories of days gone by to warm the cold lonely nights we will probably both have when we end up with someone for the sake of politics.”

“That won’t be me,” Harry denied.

“Then you’re lucky,” Zabini sighed, “but that is my future. All I’m asking is that you make it a little brighter.”

“Is it just because I’m Harry Potter?”

“Partly,” Zabini admitted unashamedly, “but mostly everything else. You’re a handsome, powerful wizard. Maybe I would like to occasionally pick up a newspaper in the future, see your face, and revel in some better times than I might find myself in. Just think about it, at least. Unless I’ve been reading the signals wrong?”

Harry swallowed deeply.

Her eyes were burning with something he had not seen before, though he could not deny that he was probably looking at the girl in a similar fashion.

There was chemistry between them, a friendship of sorts from all the hours spent duelling together, but it was not affection that gripped them.

It was lust, and Harry knew he would be lying if he tried to deny that the feeling was mutual.

“No, you haven’t,” he replied.

Zabini smiled seductively before stepping past him.

“Then find a way for us to communicate,” she urged, “and do be quick about it. We only have a matter of months to create those memories, Harry Potter.”

With that, she was gone, and Harry needed to take a few moments to compose himself once more.

The effect Zabini had on him was like nothing else.

Any other female that had piqued his curiosity did so in a way that elicited feelings of affection, along with the lust.

With Zabini, it was nothing but an intense passion, and though he knew he should do his best to ignore it, Harry wasn’t certain that he would be able to.

(Break)

The revelation had silenced the room, just as it had Albus when Cassiopeia Black had visited him to break the news. At first, he had wished to not believe it, but he could see the truth immediately.

Lord Voldemort had indeed returned.

“Can you shine some light on this, Severus?” he asked gently.

“It is precisely what I was going to report this evening,” the Potions Master replied. “He is back, but he does seem to be taking a cautious approach. He is listening more to what we have to tell him, particularly Lucius.”

Albus frowned thoughtfully.

“He is nervous.”

Severus nodded his agreement.

“He does not wish to fail,” he added. “What happened between him and Potter is not something that can be repeated. He would lose all faith from the others.”

“So, we have time?”

Severus shook his head.

“Already, plans are being put into motion,” he explained. “He will not simply march into the Ministry to attempt a coup, but he is eager to establish power. I expect that in the coming months, you will begin to notice the changes. I will of course try to keep you as informed as best as I can, but he is already suspicious of me.”

“Thank you,” Albus replied gratefully as he turned to the rest of the group. “Now, you see why it is that we are gathered here. We are to fight the same evil that plagued us once before.”

“Can we stop him, Albus?” Arthur asked worriedly.

“I believe that in the end, it will not be Lord Voldemort claiming victory,” the headmaster answered. “Change is coming, some for the worse and others for the better, but rest assured that when all is said and done, wizarding Britain will not be the same.”