627Chapter Forty – Reactions
Daily Prophet, 15 July 1995, morning edition
HARRY POTTER IS DEAD!
So read the countless flyers scattered around Diagon Alley last night, sending shockwaves through the wizarding community.
The message was the only thing printed in capital letters on the leaflets, accompanied by a crossed-out photo of Potter from the recent Triwizard Tournament; but the author of the leaflets remained unknown – there was no signature or other indication of source.
The sudden and unexpected news of the Boy Who Lived's death caused great alarm and confusion in the early hours of the morning. Many residents of Diagon Alley, including many shopkeepers and witches and wizards on their way to work, reported being horrified by the leaflets scattered about.
Whether the message of the leaflets is true, we do not know at this time. So far, the Ministry of Magic has neither confirmed nor denied the message. Ministry staff appear to be in a state of high anxiety, we are told, but so far no one has been prepared to make an official statement. Several enquiries by the Daily Prophet to senior Ministry officials have so far gone unanswered.
Where is Harry Potter?
Harry Potter was last seen in public at the end of June, when he was sentenced by the Wizengamot to fourteen days in Azkaban for his unmagical attack on Minister Fudge. As far as we know, Potter began his sentence on the 1st of July, so he should have been released today.
However, Potter's current whereabouts – whether he is still in Azkaban or not – and whether he is well, are still unclear. The fact that no one at the Ministry is willing to comment on the situation leads to fears of the worst, or at least the rumour mill continues to churn.
Fear and concern
Meanwhile, a number of worried witches and wizards have gathered outside the Ministry, hoping for answers. There is a great deal of uncertainty among those present.
"Why won't anyone tell us what's going on?" asks an angry witch. "If everything were fine, they could just say so. I'm very worried."
Feelings likely to be shared by many others.
The Daily Prophet continues to work tirelessly on this case and will keep its readers informed of any developments. As new information becomes available, our readers can expect a special edition to be published immediately.
Stay alert, and as always, witches and wizards, only trust verified information!
Related articles:
§ "My heart almost stopped!" – Interview with the Innkeeper of the Leaky Cauldron; p. 5
§ Harry Potter's Speech to the Wizengamot – Revisit the speech that shook the wizarding world; p. 11
§ The Emotional Images of the Triwizard Tournament 1994/95 – A Retrospective; p. 13
The Daily Prophet – Your trusted companion in uncertain times
Daily Prophet, 15 July 1995, 1st special edition
HARRY POTTER IS ALIVE! BUT AZKABAN IS DESTROYED!
The wizarding world can breathe a sigh of relief: Harry Potter is alive! The Ministry of Magic officially confirmed this morning that the Boy Who Lived is well and has been released from Azkaban, a day earlier than expected. So the disturbing leaflets dropped over Diagon Alley the night before were misinformation – or a failed plan?
Destruction of Azkaban
While the news that Potter is safe and well will come as a relief to many, the Ministry has also issued another deeply disturbing report: that the legendary wizarding prison of Azkaban was destroyed during the night.
That is, according to the Ministry of Magic's spokesperson. However, it is still completely unclear what exactly was meant by this. Neither the extent of the destruction nor the possible perpetrators or causes have been explained in detail by Ministry representatives. All that is known is that the incident occurred several hours after Potter's release.
The Ministry, and in particular the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, is reportedly still on edge. All Aurors and security wizards are said to have been summoned in a hurry. Whatever has happened, every wand seems to be needed.
Where is Harry Potter now?
While the confirmation of Potter's survival has allowed many to breathe a sigh of relief, the question of the famous wizard's whereabouts remains. Since his release the day before, there have been no reports of his condition.
The Daily Prophet has made several attempts to contact Potter, but so far without success. Neither his friends nor his magical guardian, Albus Dumbledore, have been willing to comment.
There is already speculation that Harry Potter's stay in Azkaban and the alleged destruction of the wizarding prison could be linked. Was someone trying to get rid of the most famous wizard of his generation?
The destruction of Azkaban: What we know
So far, little is known about what exactly happened at Azkaban last night. Magic detectors around the prison reported unusually strong magical discharges, and some eyewitnesses reported a bright glow over the sea that night, but the nature of these events is still unknown. The Dementors that normally guard the prison have so far disappeared. Whether there are any survivors of the alleged destruction among the prisoners or guards is unclear, as the Ministry has so far refused to provide any information.
What happens next?
While there is great relief that Harry Potter appears to be safe, the latest news from Azkaban raises more questions than it answers. The Daily Prophet is working to find out more details about the alleged destruction of Azkaban and the whereabouts of Harry Potter. Our reporters are on high alert to keep the wizarding community informed of any new developments. As soon as new information becomes available, another special edition of the Daily Prophet will be published.
So stay tuned and, as always, trust only the Daily Prophet's reporting!
Related articles:
§ A Brief History of Azkaban – How a notorious dark wizard's fortress became the most feared prison in the world; p. 3
§ Sentences and Goldfines – An overview of the Wizarding Court's sanctions; p. 5
§ The Greatest Magical Disasters of the Last Century – A ranking of the most catastrophic magical events in recent history; p. 8
The Daily Prophet – Your source for enlightening reports in dark times
Daily Prophet, 15 July 1995, 2nd special edition
86 Dead in Azkaban – Harry Potter Reacts
Further horrifying details of the events at Azkaban have emerged this morning.
A Ministry of Magic spokesman has confirmed that not only has the prison been completely destroyed, but the entire island on which it stands has been wiped out. 86 lives were lost, including all 84 inmates from the low, medium and high security sections, as well as two Aurors killed in the line of duty. An unspecified number of Dementors, the fearsome guardians of the prison, are also believed to have been destroyed.
The Ministry also confirmed that dark magic was the cause of the destruction. It said that 'Fiendfyre', one of the most dangerous and destructive forms of magic, which conjures unstoppable magical flames capable of consuming anything in their path, may have been used. According to the experts interviewed by the Daily Prophet, this is an ancient form of magic that originated in ancient Egypt. It is said to have been first used by the dark sorceress Sekhmet, but was also practised under various names in ancient Greece and in Asian cultures, always with devastating results. In more recent times, notorious dark wizards such as Gellert Grindelwald and He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named have used Fiendfyre for their cruel purposes.
Who is behind the destruction?
There is no official evidence as to who is responsible for the destruction of Azkaban. However, it is clear that only an extremely powerful dark wizard or witch could have cast such a destructive spell. The fact that 84 criminals, including former Death Eaters, and two Aurors fell victim to the alleged Fiendfyre raises a question: Were the prisoners or the brave law enforcers the target – or was Harry Potter meant to be hit?
A strange coincidence or something more? Harry Potter was released from Azkaban just one day before his scheduled release date, after agreeing to pay a sum of 100 Galleons for the last day of his imprisonment. This turn of events has led many to believe that Potter only escaped certain death by a lucky coincidence.
Potter on his early release and the destruction of Azkaban
The Daily Prophet was able to speak briefly with Potter as he left the Ministry after paying the 100 Galleons into the Ministerial Treasury.
When asked why he chose to have his sentence reduced by one day, despite having spoken so boldly in front of the court and the public, choosing imprisonment over a fine, he replied: "I wanted to spend the day with my fiancée because it was her birthday. It would have been a bad birthday present not to be with her that day."
Yes, you read that right, dear readers! With this statement, Harry Potter casually announced his engagement! As we later learned, his fiancée is Daphne Greengrass, Potter's long-time girlfriend and former co-champion of the Triwizard Tournament.
Potter was visibly shocked by the events in Azkaban. "I couldn't believe it," he said. "But I can't deny that a part of me was glad to hear the news." This comment initially caused confusion, but when asked, Potter clarified: "The inmates of Azkaban deserved their terrible end. Murderers, rapists, Death Eaters – they should have been brought to justice long ago, but our government has long been weak and corrupt, more interested in its own advantage than in the good of this country and its citizens."
Pity only for the Aurors, not the criminals
Despite his harsh words, Potter showed compassion for the two dead Aurors. "Please don't misunderstand me", he urged. "I feel sorry for the two innocent victims. They did not deserve to lose their lives because of the failings of our corrupt government. It would be worse if they had died because someone had tried to kill me. That would be a guilt I would carry for the rest of my life, and I would do everything I could to make sure they did not die in vain. But I think that is speculation at this point."
Potter insisted that he would donate to the funeral and burial of the two Aurors to give them "the send-off they deserve".
Finally, Potter concluded our conversation by saying: "My thoughts are with the families of the late Aurors Shacklebolt and Tonks. But for the criminals, try as I might, I cannot feel any compassion. Thank you."
A dark mystery and many unanswered questions
The harrowing revelations of this day leave many questions unanswered. Who unleashed the alleged Fiendfyre? Was Harry Potter really the target of the attack? And should the country's witches and wizards fear that such a devastating event could happen again?
The Ministry of Magic has yet to release any further information, but the investigation is well underway. The Daily Prophet will continue to keep its readers informed of any developments. Stay tuned – we will keep you updated.
Related articles:
§ The Origins of Fiendfyre – An in-depth look at one of the most dangerous spells in dark magic history; p. 4
§ The Victims of Azkaban – A full list of the 84 prisoners who died, and the crimes they committed; p. 9
§ Harry Potter and Daphne Greengrass – A couple in the spotlight; p 13
The Daily Prophet – Your beacon of truth in times of turmoil
Daily Prophet, 15 July 1995, 3rd special edition
The Daily Prophet Congratulates Harry Potter and Daphne Greengrass on Their Engagement!
Read more about two of the most prominent figures of their generation in the following articles:
The Potter Family: A Legacy of Bravery and Magic
In this in-depth feature, we take a look at the history of the legendary Potter family, from its twelfth-century founder, Linfred of Stinchcombe (known as "the Potterer"), to the last head of the family, James Potter, and his desperate fight against He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named to give his wife and son the chance to escape. And we analyse why, despite their long and glorious history, the Potters have never achieved the same status as the other ancient houses of magical Britain.
Page 2.
The Greengrass Family: Glory, Influence and Decline
Unlike the Potters, the Greengrasses have been one of the most powerful families in the land since the beginning of magical Britain under the Council of Wizards of Arthur Pendragon. In this report, we analyse how this once powerful, rich and respected family has lost more and more of its reputation and wealth over the centuries, to the point where they have had to sell their seat in the Wizengamot. And we investigate rumours that Daphne Greengrass was cast out of the family by her father.
Page 11.
Congratulations and Concerns
Across the country, people are reacting to the surprising news that Harry Potter has become engaged to his longtime girlfriend. But along with congratulations, there are also concerns that the couple are still so young and whether they are mature enough to make such a decision. We have printed the reactions verbatim.
Page 19.
The Daily Prophet – Your trusted source for news, gossip and social events in the wizarding world
Daily Prophet, 15 July 1995, 4th special edition
Grindelwald Has Escaped! New Horror Strikes the Wizarding World!
While the wizarding community is still reeling from the shock of the utter destruction of Azkaban, we have received more grim news from the continent: Gellert Grindelwald, the notorious dark wizard, has escaped from his prison in the Austrian Alps. For five decades, Grindelwald has been imprisoned in Nurmengard, the fortress he built – until now.
At a hastily called press conference this morning, officials from the German-Austrian Ministry of Magic confirmed the terrible news. Although the wards and defences around Nurmengard remain intact, Grindelwald's cell was discovered empty. Alarming details have emerged that, due to 'administrative oversight', Grindelwald has not been regularly checked by guards in recent months, giving him ample time to orchestrate his escape. The timing of the escape is believed to be between the afternoon of July 13th and the late hours of July 14th.
Once Europe's most powerful dark wizard, responsible for the deaths of thousands of witches and wizards in the 1930s and 1940s, Grindelwald is once again free.
Europe-wide manhunt
The magical governments of Europe reacted immediately to the shocking news and launched a Europe-wide manhunt. Overseas partners were also alerted.
Minister Fudge and Madam Bones, head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, announced a press conference for 4pm to inform the British magical community of the next steps. In the meantime, Auror patrols have been increased in Diagon Alley and Hogsmeade, as well as other centres of magical life. The borders have been sealed.
But despite their best efforts, there is still no trace of Grindelwald. Witches and wizards across Europe are urged to remain vigilant and report any information regarding the whereabouts of the escaped dark wizard to the appropriate authorities. If delivered by official letter owls from the Wizarding Post Office, the postage will be covered by the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, according to a spokesperson for the department.
What is Grindelwald planning?
The biggest question on many people's minds is: What is Gellert Grindelwald up to? Is he seeking revenge on those who once defeated him and imprisoned him? Or is he trying to regain the power he once had when he ruled much of Europe and terrorised the wizarding community?
Some experts are already speculating that Grindelwald may have a plan beyond mere revenge. Will he try to regain control of the magical world? His ideology of wizarding superiority over Muggles was a central element of his former rule. Could he now, at a time of uncertainty and chaos – both in the wizarding and Muggle worlds, where only a few years ago one of the great Muggle powers collapsed, leaving a power vacuum – revive his old vision of a new world order?
Is there a connection with the destruction of Azkaban?
The disturbing events of the past few hours raise many questions. Shortly after the catastrophic destruction of Azkaban, in which 86 people, including two Aurors, lost their lives, Grindelwald's escape from his prison was announced. Some experts and observers have suggested a link between the two events.
Could Grindelwald be responsible for the destruction of Azkaban? The alleged Fiendfyre that destroyed the island and the prison was one of the terrible weapons Grindelwald used to terrorise much of Europe. Many therefore speculate that it may have been Grindelwald himself who unleashed the Fiendfyre to strike fear into the magical community – or perhaps even to kill Harry Potter.
What about the leaflets in Diagon Alley?
The leaflets announcing Harry Potter's death this morning leave room for speculation. Did Grindelwald want to kill the famous young wizard who was responsible for the final victory over the last Dark Lord to terrorise the wizarding world? Was Potter only lucky to survive because he was released from Azkaban a day early?
Press conference at 4pm.
Ministers Fudge and Madam Bones are under pressure to reassure an anxious wizarding community after the day's devastating news. More information on Grindelwald's escape and the destruction of Askaban is expected at the press conference at 4pm.
The Daily Prophet will continue to keep its readers up to date and will report any new developments as soon as they become known. Stay alert and rely only on official reports!
Related articles:
Who was Gellert Grindelwald? A look at the most dangerous Dark Wizard before He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named
A detailed biography of the dark wizard who once terrorised Europe.
Page 5.
Fiendfyre and How to Protect Yourself from It
An interview with Gilderoy Lockhart, the acclaimed author and Grand Instructor in the Fight Against Dark and Darkest Magic of the International Confederation of Wizards, who is currently touring Europe to promote his new book.
Page 21.
Harry Potter: Target of Dark Forces?
Could Harry Potter be the target of Grindelwald's plans? An analysis of the possible threat and the impact a successful assassination attempt would have had on the morale of the wizarding community.
Page 30.
The Daily Prophet – Your source for reliable reporting and safety in uncertain times
The attic at 12 Grimmauld Place was stuffy. The thick walls trapped the heat like a fetter, and a pale shaft of sunlight fell through the narrow window, causing the dust in the air to float like golden streaks. There was a heavy, iron smell in the air. Harry couldn't ignore it – it was the smell of his beloved's blood, bound in her spells. The metallic tang tugged at Harry's senses, making his mouth water, a primal response he tried to ignore but couldn't fully suppress.
Slowly he lowered the fourth special edition of the Daily Prophet. Grindelwald had long since stopped reading it. For a few moments there was absolute silence.
The old man, pale and emaciated, with an expression that alternated between serenity and fatigue, seemed deeply lost in thought. He closed his eyes as Daphne's blood-magical shackles held him firmly to the wall. Their fine red lines pulsed softly, like a heartbeat.
Then Grindelwald opened his eyes, frowned and looked between Harry and Daphne. "So," he began calmly, his voice a little hoarse, as if speaking was still a little unfamiliar to him. "You made me the scapegoat for your bloody act of greed and revenge."
Daphne rolled her eyes. Her voice sounded cool, almost bored, as she replied, "Spare us your accusations, Grindelwald. You've done far worse in your time."
"But not at your age." Grindelwald raised an eyebrow and tilted his head slightly to one side. "That … came later."
Harry watched as the old wizard narrowed his eyes as he looked at them. He had also done that the day before, Harry remembered, during their first conversation – perhaps Grindelwald was short-sighted. The thought was almost comical. A man who had brought so much death and destruction to the world couldn't even see the people a metre in front of him properly?
Grindelwald's voice broke through his thoughts. "I must admit, you took me by surprise. It is a rarity... no one has taken me by surprise in decades." His pale eyes seemed to harden as they locked onto Harry's. "I did not think you'd go this far. So many bodies. You truly are cold."
Cold or burning hot, Harry thought. Not that it made any difference. Daphne, meanwhile, just clicked her tongue at Grindelwald's words.
"Not even I was this cold at your age," the old wizard continued, leaning forward as far as his bindings would allow. "You spill the blood of the innocent as if it were nothing – just water to irrigate your fields."
Harry's jaw tightened. He thought of the two Aurors he had tortured to death with his magic before Daphne's flames consumed their bodies. Shacklebolt and Tonks. They had always been kind to him. But they had also been willing servants of a corrupt system. They had brought this upon themselves.
It was an ugly truth, but he had faced uglier truths before.
"We told you we would do anything to achieve our goals," Daphne said with the kind of calm that only she possessed. Her eyes on Grindelwald were cool and distant, but Harry could sense something seething deep inside her.
Grindelwald nodded slowly, his eyes darting between them. "Aye, you did," he murmured, as if repeating and weighing the thought.
Once again, a heavy silence fell over the stuffy room. For a moment, even the sun's rays seemed to shine brighter through the small window, as if to dispel the oppressive atmosphere, but in vain. Only the soft tapping of Daphne's black lacquered fingernails on her crossed arms broke the silence. Harry felt her impatience – it was his, too.
"Have you made your decision, Grindelwald?" he finally asked. "Will you stand with us … or against us?"
Will you die here and now?
He didn't say the last question, but it was clear to all present. As was the answer that would inevitably follow, had they not completely misjudged Grindelwald. After all, everyone loved their own lives above all else, at least people as thoroughly selfish as Gellert Grindelwald. Or as him and Daphne.
And maybe they had the same goals.
Grindelwald let out a dry laugh, brittle and humourless. "After what you have done?" he sneered. "Not lightly do you force Gellert Grindelwald to admit he was wrong. But I must." His lips curled into something resembling a smile, though it held no warmth. "Oh, I still think you are hot-headed and impulsive and foolish and dangerous, but only a fool would overlook your power. The forces of fate swirl around you like moths around a flame. And perhaps, just perhaps, an old master is just what your hot-headed and impulsive and foolish and dangerous story needs to make history."
A flicker of pride surged through Harry at these words, as fleeting as it was powerful. Grindelwald wasn't just anyone – his acknowledgement, though cold and calculated, was an affirmation of the path they had carved out for themselves. They were no longer pawns, no longer victims of scorn or pity. They were power.
"Yes, my dear Harry, my dear Daphne," Grindelwald continued, his voice soft but deadly, "I am ready to go down in history with you. And I have a feeling that this history will be written in blood. That is, so to speak, an old speciality of mine."
Harry and Daphne exchanged a brief, almost imperceptible glance. Their bond vibrated like the plucked string of a harp. Maybe, Harry thought, this really was something like one of the pivots in the stories Daphne loved so much. Or maybe not. Well, they would only find out if they continued writing the story.
At the same time, the two teenagers – one of whom had just turned fifteen, the other about to – nodded at their prisoner.
"Then we have an understanding," Harry said.
Grindelwald's lips curled into another unsettling smile, this one revealing yellowed, crooked teeth. "We do, my two little demons. But where are my manners? We haven't even mentioned the most important news. I haven't even congratulated you two diabolical arsonists. On your engagement, that is. Although you are a bit... young for such things, don't you think?"
Out of the corner of his eye, Harry saw Daphne instinctively reach for the silver ring on her left hand, a ring she had been wearing since the day before. A smile played around his lips as he remembered how that had happened...
It had been the day before, when they had returned to Grimmauld Place Number 12, following Harry's release from Azkaban. Thirteen days had passed since Harry had last set foot in the old house, and it felt like an eternity.
Together, he and Daphne crossed the threshold. The moment they did, the protective enchantments woven into the ancient walls of the house washed over him, testing, probing, recognising him as Sirius' heir. The wards granted him entry, and with him, Daphne – though she clung to his arm, her fingers wrapped tightly around him as if to anchor herself.
She'd been holding on ever since they'd left Azkaban. Her grip had tightened throughout the boat ride to the mainland, through the taxi ride back to London, growing tighter with every mile. Harry could feel it – her tension, her nervous energy, a feeling so alien to Daphne that he kept watching her out of the corner of his eye.
Nervous. It was a strange word to associate with his beloved. But that was exactly what it was – Daphne was nervous.
Harry didn't ask. He knew better. Daphne would tell him everything in time. Just like she always did. He just wondered if it had anything to do with the wizard she had freed from another prison and who was now waiting for them upstairs.
As if she'd picked up his thoughts, Daphne's voice broke the silence. "Before we meet Grindelwald," she said quietly, "I need to talk to you. Come."
Without waiting for an answer, she dragged him into the drawing room on the ground floor. It was a relic of another age, filled with the old-fashioned opulence of the Black family. Green sofas and armchairs were scattered throughout, and from the ceiling hung a magnificent chandelier in the shape of writhing silver and gold snakes. Some of them actually moved and hissed softly. Stretching his magical senses, Harry even thought he could feel the faint echo of the life power trapped in the ornaments. He would not put it past the mad Black family to have sacrificed real creatures to add the finishing touches to their interior design.
They sat on one of the sofas, so close that their knees and shoulders brushed against each other. Even the scent of Daphne's pitch-black hair – pine needles with a hint of lemongrass – reached Harry's nose and clouded his mind. He realised that they hadn't laid together for almost two weeks and a sudden surge of desire filled him. But Daphne's eyes, fixed straight on his and radiating an almost indescribable seriousness, made him suppress those feelings.
Whatever she was about to do seemed important. More important than sex.
At that moment, Harry felt their magical bond fall into a perfect stillness, like a lake where every ripple had ceased, the air above it still and waiting. Daphne's golden eyes also resembled the lake at that moment, reflective and calm and deep and beautiful.
"Harry, I've been thinking a lot," Daphne said at last. "In the last few days when there wasn't much else for me to do. Since you were arrested by the Aurors, and even before that. I've been thinking about myself, about you, about the people we know, the people we don't know, about the world, how it sees us and how we want to be seen by it. And about the importance of names and family histories and what they say about a person. And about love and the influence it can have on people, and the influence people can have on each other and on the world around them, which in turn influences people's behaviour, and so on and so forth, a whole endless chain of actions and reactions and influences."
Daphne's voice hadn't necessarily quickened as she spoke, but it had definitely become more intense. She moved even closer to him.
"Do you know that Hermione and Ron confronted me after you were arrested?" she said. "Hermione blamed me for your behaviour."
"For such a clever girl, she can be surprisingly blind sometimes," Harry murmured quietly.
"She won't be the only one who thinks that way," Daphne continued. "Just as she hasn't been the only one so far. In the eyes of many, my love, I am a bad influence on you and not worthy of your heart. Depending on the story, I either twist you around my finger, take advantage of you, corrupt you or bring out your worst qualities."
Harry opened his mouth to protest, but Daphne was quicker. She pressed a finger to his lips, her black-painted nail brushing sharply across his skin, sending a shiver down his spine. Her other hand ran through his hair, distracting him even more.
"They would be right about everything," Daphne whispered,her breath warm against his skin. "And they couldn't be more wrong. Harry, you can't imagine how I feel about you. Without you, I would be lost, just another arrogant and self-centred witch in the vortex of time, easy to forget and be forgotten. It is only through you that I feel the stars are within my reach. Only through you do I feel that the future will be more than just the pursuit of power for power's sake."
Harry instinctively moved closer to her as well. His hands went around her waist. It felt burning hot.
"It gives me a strange, perverse satisfaction that people think I have so much power over you," Daphne said. "That Hermione thinks I knocked the shining hero off his pedestal and into the mud with me. But Harry, make no mistake. You were the one who knocked me off the pedestal on which I saw myself. There was a time when I thought I was going to bring new greatness to the Greengrass name, to take it out of the shadow of my parents and their ancestors who had dragged it so far down into the mud. That the name Daphne Greengrass would go down in history as a powerful witch that no one could ever force into anything."
Her words were laced with something both bitter and seductive, and as she pressed herself closer to him, Harry could feel their bodies aligning as if they could merge completely.
"But in the last few years, in the last few months, in the last few days, it's become more and more clear to me that I don't want to go down in history as Daphne Greengrass. You, Harry, are the most important person in my life. The only important person. I don't know what I would do without you. What dark desires I would have given in to. I want to be by your side forever, as I swore to you, as your sword, your shield, your confidante, as I know you will be my sword, my shield, my confidant. I don't want to go down in history as Daphne Greengrass, but as Daphne Potter."
She bit her lip, which Harry found incredibly sexy. At the same time, his heart began to beat faster because he knew what was coming next. He had always known, though he had thought it would take longer. And that he would be the one to say those words. But he should have known that Daphne, his unique, power-hungry, greedy, wonderful and admirable Daphne, would not have the patience for it. And so he listened to her words, his heart pounding.
"And that's why I'm asking you, my heart," Daphne whispered, placing her hand on his cheek. Her beautiful golden eyes locked with his, as if there was nothing else, as if they were the only living creatures in the whole wide world. Her gaze was a universe unto itself. "Will you marry me? Will you spend the rest of your life with me, as husband and wife? To let the whole world know what I, what you, what our magic has long known?"
Harry put his hand on hers, which was still on his cheek. It felt as soft, as warm, as tantalising as ever. Ever since he had known her, ever since a twist of fate had brought them together in their first year at Hogwarts, his answer had been decided, piece by piece, word by word, and drop of blood by drop of blood, with his consent and his trust. He had willingly taken every single step along the way, made every decision of his own free will, every bloody deed and cruel choice, but he had made them with a determined and powerful witch at his side, pushing him to the highest heights and the deepest depths, but always looking out for his best interests. She had always been there for him. On the ridiculous mission to protect the Philosopher's Stone. The search for his Animagus form. His escape from the Dursleys' imprisonment. His desire to become so powerful that no one could ever oppress him again. His revenge after Sirius's death.
She was always at his side. His guardian angel, his demoness, his one true love. And so the answer to her question had been written in their bond a long time ago, in blood and desperation and greed and boundless trust.
"Yes," Harry breathed. A taste of blood touched his tongue as Daphne's left iris glowed with a hint of green. Their magic merged, enveloping them like the wings of a crow, dark and unbowed. "I want to marry you, Daphne. I want you to be my wife. I want the whole world to know that you are mine and I am yours."
Daphne's lips curled into a smile – a smile of triumph, of satisfaction, of unbreakable love. The future stretched before them, wild and unknown, but bound by the magic they shared and the blood they spilled.
"I accept your proposal."
Daphne had even forged two rings, Harry thought with a smile, his fingers absentmindedly tracing the smooth silver band on his left hand. The rings were exactly the same, just a little smaller and narrower for Daphne's.
A sudden noise jolted him from his thoughts and both he and Daphne turned sharply towards the window. Grindelwald could only move his head slightly, but he did.
The sound came from the window, where a huge brown barn owl was perched, its sharp beak tapping rhythmically against the glass.
Tick. Tick. Tick.
"Looks like you've got mail," Grindelwald said.
Harry stepped forward and opened the window. The owl immediately stretched out its leg and presented a neatly bound letter. Without hesitation, Harry untied the parchment and the owl took flight, quickly disappearing into the sky – a sky lightly dotted with summer clouds. It quickly disappeared to the north. No doubt, it was not meant to wait for an answer.
Behind him, he heard the soft clicking of Daphne's heels on the creaking wooden floor, followed by the familiar touch of her hand on his shoulder. Together they looked at the seal on the envelope: red with the familiar crest. There was no doubt who the letter was from.
Dumbledore.
Harry's eyes hardened for a moment, then with a quick tug he broke the seal and unfolded the parchment. The old wizard's elegant, curvilinear handwriting was unmistakable.
Harry, Daphne,
I am relieved that you are both well. But I need to speak with you. I will be at Grimmauld Place at five o'clock. Do not leave the house until then. And check and strengthen all the protective wards as if your lives depended on it. For perhaps they do.
Albus Dumbledore
Harry read the letter a second time before bursting out laughing. Next to him, Daphne rolled her eyes, a fleeting, wicked smile playing around her lips, as if she had to control herself not to snort mockingly.
Grindelwald shifted, his sharp gaze flicking between them. "Would you care to explain what you find so amusing?" His voice, though measured, carried a faint note of irritation.
"You really are our scapegoat, Grindelwald," Harry said with a sardonic grin. "Our diversion while we tighten the net. But the time has not yet come. No, today we will have a visit from the enemy, and so I will tell you, Grindelwald, what my dear family always told me: stay in your room, make no noise and pretend you are not there."
"That won't be difficult for him, darling," Daphne said. She made a gesture with her hand, and the blood-magical bonds around Grindelwald's body tightened even further, crushing his jaw and stifling his incipient protest.
Yes, they may have made a deal with Grindelwald, Harry thought, but control was better than trust. Trust was an illusion.
At exactly five o'clock, the knock sounded – three measured, precise taps that nonetheless echoed through the hallway of 12 Grimmauld Place.
Knock. Knock. Knock.
Harry had been expecting it. He rose from his seat and crossed the room, his hand on the door before the sound had faded. Pulling it open, Dumbledore stood on the threshold, and for once Harry noticed no further physical deterioration, as was usually the case when he had not seen his Headmaster for some time. Perhaps the old man had finally reached the nadir of his decline – where only the grave remained. Or perhaps it was only a fortnight since their last meeting and time hadn't worn him down any further.
But even if Dumbledore did not look older and more wrinkled than when they had last met – even if his robes still looked far too baggy for his old body – he looked more worried than Harry had ever seen him before. More worried even than he had been after Sirius' death. The thought made Harry feel a hot rage, but he forced his face to calm.
"Good afternoon, Professor," Harry said politely, his voice even. "Please, come in."
"Thank you, Harry." Dumbledore stepped inside, his keen eyes flicking briefly over Harry's shoulder, as if searching for something in the shadows of the entrance hall. But he said nothing.
Harry closed the door and gestured to a side room. "Shall we sit in the drawing room? Daphne's made tea, and there's some leftover cake from yesterday. I hope you like chocolate."
Dumbledore gave a faint smile, though it seemed strained, as though his heart wasn't in it. "I would never refuse such hospitality, Harry," he replied. "And congratulations are in order, I hear. Your engagement... though I must admit, you are both quite young for such a commitment." There was a brief pause before he added, almost as an afterthought, "Still, I suspect your experiences have aged you beyond your years."
Together they entered the drawing room, where Harry had made many happy memories with Daphne the day before. Harry motioned for Dumbledore to sit in one of the armchairs while he took his usual place on the sofa. Flames were flickering in the fireplace, giving off light but no heat – it was midsummer after all.
"We don't want to get married right away either," Harry said, picking up on Dumbledore's earlier comment. "But it just felt right. Like we were just giving a different, more obvious form to something that had been there for a long time."
His headmaster nodded thoughtfully. "I can understand that. Hard times make you realise how precious time is. Your parents were only three years older when they got engaged, although they had already finished their time at Hogwarts by then."
"We are also waiting until we have left Hogwarts. We were thinking of travelling after that."
"An excellent idea. If you ever need suggestions, I have seen quite a bit of the world in my one hundred and fourteen years," Dumbledore said with a touch of humour. But the weariness never quite left his eyes.
Harry thanked him for the offer, just as he felt a magical current approaching them. A moment later he heard a faint clink. It came from the tray of tea cups and cake plates that Daphne levitated into the room. She gave them a bright smile that seemed as false as Dumbledore's earlier.
Inside, Harry found himself laughing and grimacing at the same time, for the sight of Daphne reminded him of Aunt Petunia and the way she had always greeted guests, only with Daphne, of course, much more beautiful, murderous and magical.
Daphne frowned as she caught his thoughts and gave him a reproachful look before turning back to Dumbledore. "Hello, Professor," she said. "Welcome to our home."
She set the tray down on a small side table and handed them their cups. Harry sipped his lightly. It seemed to be some kind of herbal tea he didn't recognise, but it wasn't bad. Maybe just a little bitter.
Dumbledore, on the other hand, looked up in surprise after taking a sip. "This is Night Ember Weed," he said softly, almost reverently. "I thought it had been extinct for three centuries."
"I don't know about that," Daphne said with a shrug. "It was in one of the cellars here. I even had to break open the cupboard to get it because it was protected by a spell."
"I am not surprised. Tea like this could fetch a small fortune," Dumbledore mused. "Each sip is worth more than a year's salary for some of my teachers."
Harry exchanged a quick glance with Daphne. It was a good thing they weren't interested in money. But maybe they should have paid more attention in Herbology. Or maybe History, if it was an extinct plant? Did Binns even deal with such things?
"Then we'd better enjoy our tea before it gets cold," Daphne said, taking a sip from her cup as well, after sitting down on the couch next to Harry. Together they looked up at Dumbledore.
"I have already congratulated Harry on your engagement", Dumbledore began, his voice calm. "Although we have also agreed that you were quite young for it. But I would also like to congratulate you personally, Daphne. Also on your fifteenth birthday yesterday."
Daphne thanked him briefly, then Dumbledore continued.
"The date could not have been better chosen. Because, as I gathered from your words in the newspaper, Harry, that was the reason you decided not to serve your full sentence?" Dumbledore's tone made it sound like a question.
"I realised," Harry replied, "that my time with Daphne was more important to me than what I was trying to prove with my sentence. It was a sudden decision, but I don't regret it for a moment. Not even considering the terrible events of last night."
"So sudden, in fact, that you didn't even have a chance to send me a note. Because I had a firm schedule today to get you out of Azkaban." Dumbledore held up a hand to stop Harry's impending apology. "Don't worry, I do not blame you. No, I am just relieved you weren't in Azkaban last night, Harry."
At Dumbledore's words, Daphne reached for Harry's hand. Her own hand trembled slightly as she said, "Me too. Otherwise I would have burnt the Ministry to ashes by now for not protecting Harry."
Dumbledore's blue eyes fixed on her, a flicker of something indecipherable in their depths. For a moment, it looked as if he might say something – an admonishment, perhaps, or a warning –, but he obviously decided against it. He sighed, and Harry wondered how a single sigh could sound so significant.
"Harry is alive," Dumbledore said at last. "But many others are not. They died in the Fiendfyre."
Harry's brow furrowed. "Is that certain? The papers only suggested it was a possibility."
"It is certain. I just spoke to Minister Fudge and Madam Bones before their press conference. The magical evidence is conclusive."
Harry slid to the edge of the sofa. He leaned forward and said softly, almost in a whisper, "But who would be capable of something like that? Do you think..." He stopped.
"Not many, I am afraid," Dumbledore said. "And yes, it is a discovery I fear. Such powerful magic, on this scale, with this degree of control – there are few wizards capable of this. One of them is still trapped in the Mirror of Erised, others are on completely different continents, without the slightest motive to commit such an act. This, and other recent events, lead to only one conclusion."
"Grindelwald," Daphne whispered.
Dumbledore nodded. "His escape is too close to the destruction of Azkaban and the murder of all those people to be a mere coincidence. Dark forces are at work here, sinister plans are being pursued. And I fear... I fear we are still groping in the dark in our attempts to decipher them."
The old wizard's voice was filled with such deep regret at these words that it shocked Harry. With an attitude like that, it was no wonder the war against Voldemort had been so hopeless.
"And Grindelwald was going to kill Harry?" Daphne asked. Her pretty face was etched with concern.
"What makes you think that?" Dumbledore asked. He didn't sound as if he disagreed with her, but rather as if he wanted to hear her say it.
"Because Harry is a symbol of hope for many." Daphne squeezed his hand. Harry clasped his fingers with hers and pushed back gently. "He's already been responsible for the downfall of a Dark Lord. What better way to herald the return of another Dark Lord than to destroy this symbol of hope on his first attack? Hence also the leaflets in Diagon Alley. He wanted to deal a crushing blow to the morale of the most powerful magical country in Europe right from the start. And it would have had the added benefit of eliminating a potential enemy, since Harry has already become known for his tremendous magical powers."
Daphne clicked her tongue.
"Of course, that would have been a fallacy. Because if he took Harry from me, I would hunt him to the ends of the earth and would not rest until nothing was left of him but the dust of the dust of his ashes."
Dumbledore looked at Daphne for a moment, as he had when she had spoken of burning the Ministry to ashes. Harry hoped that she had not exaggerated her acting skills. What they were doing was like walking on a razor's edge and they had to be careful, very, very careful, or all their efforts would be in vain.
To get the conversation going again, he said, "But why didn't Grindelwald put it on the leaflets that it was him? If he wanted to spread terror, why not make sure people knew it was him?"
Inwardly, he had to suppress a grin. The leaflets had been, in all modesty, one of their better ideas.
Daphne replied before Dumbledore could speak. "Uncertainty, Harry. Uncertainty is far more terrifying. Not knowing who your enemy is – that's where real fear lives."
Harry frowned slightly. "But Voldemort used the Dark Mark. He wanted everyone to know it was him and his Death Eaters after a murder."
Dumbledore shook his head slightly. "Gellert Grindelwald and Lord Voldemort always fought differently, though they both went down in history as Dark Lords. Voldemort loved the overt signs, the spreading of fear in front of the world. Grindelwald's weapon of choice has always been the secret play, the hidden moves in an endless, tragic game of chess where only he can see the whole board. He strikes when least expected, revealing his hand only when it suits him. We must not allow ourselves to predict his actions in any way, or to understand the reasoning behind any action, at least not before he moves for the final checkmate."
"You sound as if you know Grindelwald well," Harry remarked.
Dumbledore's expression didn't change, as though Harry's observation hadn't even registered. "Gellert Grindelwald, if he is indeed after you, is the most dangerous man you have ever met, Harry."
"One can imagine," Daphne said sarcastically. "After he destroyed Azkaban."
At the same time, Harry asked, "More dangerous than Voldemort?"
"Yes, Harry," their headmaster replied, "even more dangerous than Voldemort."
There was an oppressive silence in the drawing room for a few moments as the three sipped their tea and thought about what Dumbledore had said. Daphne's fingers tapped lightly on Harry's knuckles.
Finally, Dumbledore sat up in his chair, his eyes fixed on them once more. "For the rest of the summer, I urge you both to be careful. This house is well protected, its location known to very few. I doubt Grindelwald will make another attempt on your life, Harry – at least not immediately. Such an act would not be in his nature. He will lie low, bide his time. This place will be watched, and for now I believe you are safe and have nothing to fear."
Harry felt the pull even before Daphne had opened her mouth. It was as if someone had torn their bond, but he knew the feeling was coming from deep inside his girlfriend, no, his fiancée. The thought of being able to call her that now almost made him smile tipsily, but he pulled himself together; it might seem inappropriate.
"We're not afraid," Daphne said. "Nothing could be further from the truth."
She managed to keep a sense of humour in her voice despite the annoyance at Dumbledore's choice of words, which Harry could sense and feel echoing within him.
Dumbledore's lips quirked in acknowledgment. "I am aware of that. You both have many vices, but fear is not one of them. Quite the opposite, in fact."
He looked at them both in turn, his gaze lingering. "I have already discussed this with Harry before he went to prison. As soon as you are back at Hogwarts, we must resume our meetings from two and a half years ago. And this time you must not lie to me, otherwise I cannot – I will not – help you next time."
Harry and Daphne met the Headmaster's gaze. They knew they had to keep up the act, but they also knew it couldn't be too unbelievable. No one would believe their transformation from Saul to Paul, especially not the wizard across from them.
"We've talked about that too," Harry said carefully. "We want to work on ourselves. We want to..." He pretended to search for the right words. "We want to find more peace. But we also want to continue to pursue our goals, in our own way."
"We're not going to become angels," Daphne added, her voice a little more subdued than Harry's. "It's just not in me. And Harry..." She looked at him. "That's probably my fault. We'll work on ourselves, Professor, but don't expect miracles."
"Do you want to keep inflicting pain on yourselves?" Dumbledore asked.
"We have to, Professor," Harry said. "You see it yourself, and now with Grindelwald, or whoever else is coming. We need the Blood Magic."
Daphne nodded in agreement. "It's our weapon. Only a fool would lay down a weapon when the wolves are closing in – and the vultures circling above."
"A weapon can wound its wielder as easily as its enemies," Dumbledore said.
"Which brings us full circle," Harry said. "This is exactly what we discussed two weeks ago, Professor. Please help us..." He looked at Daphne, who nodded slightly. But her body was tense, her back straight as a board. She was playing perfectly how uncomfortable all this was making her. He was proud of her. "...that we don't lose each other any more. We are ... worried that otherwise we will manoeuvre ourselves into a dead end from which there is no way out. We want to continue on our path, to confront Voldemort, Grindelwald and all the other evil out there, but we want to get there without losing ourselves in the process..."
Dumbledore's eyes burned into them through his half-moon glasses, and for a moment Harry feared they'd gone too far. But then the old wizard sighed, a tired, regretful sound. "I would have liked to have heard different words from you. A different commitment. But perhaps this is a realistic start that will reduce the risk of disappointment later." There was a pause, a heavy silence, before Dumbledore spoke again, more quietly this time. "I will be honest with you. I don't think I'll be with you much longer."
Harry fought the urge to look at Daphne. Their bond trembled.
"It is very likely," Dumbledore continued, "that I won't live to see your twentieth birthday. That is why I pin so much hope on the two of you. You and all the other young witches and wizards in this country, but compared to them, you have one advantage..."
"Power," Harry said.
Dumbledore nodded. "Yes, power. You are powerful. But with that power comes responsibility. That is what I have learnt, that is what other powerful witches and wizards have learnt before me, and that is what you both will learn after me. You must learn to control your powers instead of being controlled by them, for much may depend on them, much that is very important to both of you. We must work to make you realise that you are powerful without these means, and that you can change the world. Because you can, Harry, Daphne, make no mistake. You have every opportunity, every chance, and it is up to you to take it."
We will, Harry thought. With your corpse at our feet.
"Yes, we will work together on this," Dumbledore continued, his voice a little lower. His eyes dropped to the floor. "Just always be honest with me. I can only help you if you stop keeping such secrets from me. And you can only help me if I can trust you. I need you to prove that all this has not been in vain."
Truly touching. Harry wiped away an inner tear as he leaned forward slightly. "We want to do our part," he said. "We've let ourselves go, we know that. We've let our emotions get the better of us, which... hasn't always been easy for us. But we're working on it. We want to improve. We just can't promise that it's going to be an easy road..."
"It never is." Dumbledore looked up again, a sad smile playing on his lips. "Unfortunately, it never is. But we must always move forward. I will send you new books on techniques for calming the mind after the turmoil caused by your repeated use of Blood Magic. And also some scrolls on Soul Magic that might help you understand your own bond. And even if you can't stop using it altogether, I would ask you to at least reduce the amount of pain you cause yourself. We will discuss this in more detail when you return to Hogwarts, but the first steps need to be taken now."
"We will," Harry lied again, smoothly and without hesitation. "Thank you, Professor."
"We have placed a great deal of trust in you," Daphne said. "Do not betray that trust. Do not prove yourself unworthy of it, as you did in the past when Sirius died because of you. In return, we will try not to disappoint your trust, for our own sake as well."
The jab hit its mark. Dumbledore's expression faltered for a moment, guilt flickering across his weathered features. "You are right, Daphne, I have betrayed your trust… and my own. But do not underestimate the amount of trust I have already extended to both of you. Many of my predecessors would have thrown you out of Hogwarts long ago. And there are, I dare say, many wizards who would not have reacted so sympathetically to your behaviour. But there are limits beyond which I can no longer help you. Beyond which even I would no longer wish to help you. Even if..." He hesitated for a moment. "Even if I have high hopes that you will continue my legacy after my death. Even if, as wards of Hogwarts – and in your case, Harry, as the son of your parents – I consider you almost members of my own family."
Harry had to try not to vomit. Instead, he returned Dumbledore's nod with a hopefully neutral expression. It would have been even more unbelievable if he had reacted joyfully or emotionally to those words.
"Let's change the subject," Harry said. "Voldemort's Horcruxes. How are you getting on? What will happen to the one in Bellatrix Lestrange's vault now that she's dead? After all, that was the main reason we had to lie when Sirius died."
At least Dumbledore had the decency to look guilty again. Harry rubbed salt in the wound.
"After all, that was the reason we weren't allowed to tell the truth then, that an innocent man had been cruelly murdered."
Dumbledore nodded, looking more haunted than ever. "I was close to an agreement with the goblins. With the benevolence of the Ministry, which I had to keep in the dark at the same time, because this knowledge must not be known. So I remain grateful for your sacrifice. However, the death of Bellatrix Lestrange, it must be said, has thrown everything into disarray. We must find out if there is an heir, and if so, who it is. There are a few possibilities, including Draco Malfoy, the son of her late sister Narcissa. But he is still a minor and under the guardianship of his godfather, so he may not be able to claim his inheritance until he comes of age."
"I'm hearing a lot of subjunctive," Daphne said.
"Unfortunately, you are right," Dumbledore admitted. "I am in contact with both the goblins and the Ministry to clarify the situation, I promise you. The objective remains to destroy the Horcrux in Gringotts as soon as possible."
"And what about the other Horcruxes?" Harry asked.
"I am confident that I will find another one soon – and that most of the others have already been destroyed. But I can only be sure of that when To.. Lord Voldemort is mortal again. I will keep you informed, I promise."
Harry and Daphne exchanged a quick glance. This was the one thing they wished their Headmaster a quick victory in. It would make the road ahead so much easier.
"If there's anything we can do to help, Professor..." Harry offered, his voice full of false sincerity.
"An honourable offer, Harry," Dumbledore said, "and rest assured, I am not above accepting it if it proves useful. But I think I have taken up enough of your time for the moment, and I will take my leave now. Especially as I believe there are others who want your attention as well."
With a slight gesture, Dumbledore pointed to the window. A small grey owl had just landed there, scratching at the glass with its claws as if it were desperate to get in. There was a letter tied to one of its legs.
So while Harry watched Dumbledore go out the door – after the Headmaster had once again congratulated him on his engagement and warned him to be careful – Daphne went to the window to let the owl in.
But when Harry returned to the drawing room a few minutes later, not only was there one owl sitting on the windowsill in front of his fiancée, but two more, one brown and one the colour of a mixture of coal and tree resin. And they too had letters tied to their feet.
Apparently recent events had created a certain desire to share among their acquaintances, Harry thought. Who would have thought.
As Albus limped along the winding path back to the walls of Hogwarts, every step sent a sharp twinge through his hip – Apparating from London had aggravated this latest ailment. But it wasn't the pain in his body that occupied his mind; it was the conversation with Harry and Daphne that lingered, gnawing at him like a deep-rooted thorn.
He had not told them everything. He was not only confident that he would soon find another Horcrux; he already knew exactly where it was hidden. The Gaunts' ring – an heirloom passed down through generations of Tom's bloodline – lay in the crumbling ruins of the old Gaunt house. Tom had probably taken it by force, as he had taken everything else in his life. The dark magic protecting the ring was formidable, but Albus had gleaned enough from Tom's mind to know what he would face when the time came.
For a moment he had considered accepting Harry and Daphne's offer to take them with him when the time came to retrieve and destroy the Horcrux... but he didn't think it would be a good idea. More than anything, they needed peace and quiet; no confrontation with whatever the Horcrux might try to do in its desperation to avoid destruction.
Still... the idea of having them both to rely on was so tempting that Albus almost dared. He was growing weaker, slower, more fragile by the day, and they were so capable – so powerful, if unpredictable. But some burdens had to be carried alone, and the destruction of the ring was one of them. He had to finish this, for the world, before passing on the baton, as the Muggles would say.
He only wished he'd been a better mentor. Their reckless path to Blood Magic, their grim reliance on pain and power – it was a failure of his own making. He should have guided them differently, helped them understand sooner what power could do to the soul if left unchecked. At least now they had recognised the danger they were courting, even if it was later than he had hoped. They were turning back, slowly, cautiously – something he himself had almost been too late to do all those years ago.
Maybe, just maybe, they would avoid the same mistakes he had made.
The world after him needed Harry Potter, for all his rough edges and harsh words, as they had been written in today's paper, Albus was sure. And with that, it needed Daphne Greengrass – soon to be Daphne Potter – for she belonged to Harry now like pitch to brimstone.
Albus couldn't help but hope that the three of them – himself, Harry and Daphne – could still repair some of the damage, could still right some of the wrongs before his time was up. There were still months, maybe even years, if fate was merciful. But with Gellert looming in the shadows, Albus had little faith in mercy.
That was the bitter truth gnawing at him now. Gellert. His greatest failure, his deepest regret. Once, Albus had thought he could understand him, predict his ex-lover, at least a little. But now, with Gellert free and his motives clouded in darkness, Albus no longer knew what to expect. Was it revenge? Was it power? Or something more insidious?
With a deep sigh, Albus pushed through the heavy front doors of the castle. The warmth of the interior hit him like a soft embrace, but it didn't ease the heaviness in his bones. He was tired. So terribly tired.
He would have to rest for the next few days, save his strength for what was to come. Destroying the Horcrux would take more from him than he had left to give, but he had no choice. He had to do it before his condition deteriorated any further. And in the meantime, the world would have to turn without his shadow looming over it. Harry and Daphne would have to protect themselves, as he could no longer protect them from every threat. And the rest of the wizarding world – governments across Europe and beyond – would have to hunt down Gellert before he made his move.
Sooner or later, Albus would pass the baton. It was inevitable. But in these final races – his last great trials – he would have to be careful. There wasn't much left of him to give, and every step forward felt like a step closer to the end.
But maybe, just maybe, when he reached the finish line, he would be able to look back on it all and feel some pride.
If, of course, he survived long enough to make it there.
"This one's from Neville," Daphne said, holding up the letter the first owl had brought. "Addressed to both of us." She pointed to the dark owl still perched on the windowsill. "Susan, I think, judging by the handwriting. Also addressed to both of us. And" – she pointed to the last waiting owl – "Hermione. Addressed only to you."
Harry went to her and took the first letter. Curious, he began to read the slightly skewed writing.
Harry,
Daphne,
First of all, congratulations on your engagement! It came as a surprise, but I should have known. You two have always been inseparable, all these years. Somehow it makes sense, although I didn't expect it until today.
I'm writing from Denmark. I'm here on holiday with my grandmother, and – I'm sure you'll be interested to know – Susan came with us. Her aunt didn't want her to, but Susan didn't let that stop her. Madam Bones can't exactly cause an international scandal just to get her back, so for now we have our peace and can enjoy our time together. It's actually quite nice here, peaceful.
This morning we saw a picture of Azkaban in a Danish newspaper, along with something about Potter, Greengrass and Grindelwald. Luckily, Gran knew a translation spell, so we could read the article.
Susan became very quiet after that and has been withdrawn ever since. I don't know if she expects me to propose soon, too, because just the thought of it makes my heart sink into my boots. I mean, I love her very much, but we're still so young, and I'm definitely not as bold as the two of you—whichever one of you proposed. Just kidding.
No, I think I know how Susan feels. When Azkaban was destroyed, her mother's rapists, the murderers of her parents, died. But also two Aurors, who probably didn't deserve it, even though they were under her aunt's command. I think it's all very confusing for her.
You are probably wondering why I write so much about Susan and think about her so much. To be honest, I think I think about her so much that I don't have to think about my own feelings. But I realise, as I write this, that it's hopeless.
Harry paused, noting that Neville's handwriting had grown more erratic, the letters wobbling across the page as if his hand had been shaking.
You both know what they did to my parents. And now they're dead. Finally they're dead. They should have died all those years ago for what they did, but the Ministry never saw to it. I should be afraid, terrified, that there's someone out there who can cause such destruction. Especially if it's Grindelwald, as some say, though I can think of other possibilities. But I am not. I am happy. And whoever did this has my eternal gratitude.
That was probably very dark. I shouldn't have written it. I just wanted to congratulate you and say that I approve of what Harry told the reporters. Just as I approved of what Harry said to the Wizengamot. But I've already written it, so I'll leave the letter as it is. I hope you will understand and not judge me for it. But something tells me you won't.
I look forward to seeing you again and talking to you in person. Maybe somewhere where we can be a little more open with each other.
Congratulations again.
Neville
Harry looked up. That had been interesting. They hadn't done what they had done the night before to make Neville happy, to avenge Neville's tortured parents – or Susan's – but it was a pleasant side effect that they were happy to accept.
At that moment, Daphne finished the letter she thought was from Susan. She lifted her head and met his gaze.
"Here, read this," she said, handing him the letter.
Harry took it from her and started to read again. The letter was indeed from Susan. Her handwriting was clearer and straighter than Neville's, but it was also harder, almost like a typewriter.
Daphne, Harry,
It seems only proper to congratulate you on your engagement, so congratulations. Even though you're still very young. I love Neville more than anything, but if he were to propose now, I think I would have to say no. At least until we're older. But anyway.
What I really want to write is this: I read your words in the paper, Harry. You were very diplomatic, but you were right. You were right in everything you said. Murderers and rapists and the scum of our society deserve no pity. And they won't get any from me. They would have deserved to die many years ago, but certain "influential" people prevented that.
I was going to write to you anyway, Harry, to express my regret that you had to go to prison with such creatures (I can't write "people"). But knowing that Daphne would read everything anyway, I thought I'd write to you both at the same time. And to be honest, that regret has turned to joy in the last few days.
Joy that you were so lucky, Harry, to be released from prison exactly one day before it happened. I know Neville would have been devastated if anything had happened to you. And Britain probably wouldn't have survived Daphne's wrath either. No, everything turned out well in the present we live in.
I can't wait to see what the future holds now. After the destruction of Azkaban, after the death of all that scum, after the escape of Grindelwald, who everyone now blames, after your engagement, after everything that has happened since the Third Task, and probably even before.
I would like to hear what you have to say. I'd like to talk to you when we're all back at Hogwarts. About the future.
Best wishes and congratulations again (although I hope you'll take it a bit easier from now on, at least in your private life, so that there won't be a whole bunch of little black-haired babies crawling around the castle corridors by the end of our next school year).
Susan
Harry put the letter down, his brow furrowed in thought. He would have to think about the offer that was barely hidden behind the words. In any case, it was interesting to see what still waters their actions had stirred up. It hadn't been their intention – they had only wanted personal power and maybe a little personal revenge – but they certainly didn't have a monopoly on such feelings. Maybe they should have expected it. After all, still waters run deep. And bloody.
Not that Susan had been particularly still in the past, but nonetheless the analogy didn't seem too far-fetched, Harry thought.
"This could be interesting," he said to Daphne.
"So much is interesting," she replied, still looking at the third letter. The one that was actually addressed only to him. "But this isn't. This is – Hey!"
Grinning, Harry took the paper from her hand. He immediately recognised Hermione's pretty, curvy handwriting.
Dear Harry,
I'm so glad you're all right! When I saw the paper, I can't even begin to describe how terrified I was. I cried all morning, first in fear, then in sheer relief when I found out you weren't in Azkaban last night.
But Harry, I know this is a difficult subject, but we also need to talk about why you were in Azkaban in the first place. What you did at the victory ceremony. And why.
I've heard so much since then and read so much in the newspapers, but I need to hear it from your mouth. I need to hear it from my friend Harry.
Can we meet in the next few days? Just tell me when and where, and I'll come.
Please, Harry. We want to be there for you. All of us. Ron, Ginny, the twins, me. Please share your thoughts and feelings with us, and let us help you if you're not well. Please don't shut us out any more.
With love and concern,
Hermione
Harry let the letter sink. Now he knew what Daphne had meant. "She never mentioned you once," he said to his dark-haired lover.
"I told you she blames me," Daphne replied dryly. "We're back where we started. No, she hates me even more now."
"She doesn't h—"
Daphne put her finger to his lip. "Don't finish that sentence. We both know that's not true. And I couldn't stand it if you lied to me, even out of good intentions. Lie to the whole world, but not to me."
He paused, then nodded. She was right. As she often was.
Before he could reply, a sudden gust of wind swept through the open window, bringing with it another owl. This one was larger, grey, and visibly on the verge of collapse. Its feathers were ruffled, its breathing labored and its eyes had the look of an exhausted creature barely clinging to consciousness.
Harry recognised the poor bird at once. It was Errol, the Weasley family owl. And so he could guess who had sent the letter tied to Errol's leg.
And indeed, as soon as he opened the letter, he recognised the messy handwriting of his first friend of his age. Unlike Hermione's letter, there were a few ink stains on the paper, but otherwise Harry was pretty sure that the two letters had been written with the same quill and ink, only a few minutes apart, and sent with different owls. He wondered if the content would be similar, too, and began to read curiously.
Hey Harry,
Thank Merlin you're all right! Mum was going mental, and so was I. I can't tell you how glad we all are to know you're safe! And congratulations on the engagement! Blimey, mate, engaged at fourteen (fifteen soon, but still). You don't mess around, do you?
I wanted to write to you sooner, but we weren't sure the letters would reach you in Azkaban. Dad wasn't sure either. You must have a lot to tell us, and I have a few questions of my own. What if we met over the holidays? We could do it in London, or you could come to the Burrow. Mum says she'd like to see you again. The others would too.
Just let me know when it works for you. And keep your chin up!
Ron
Harry handed the letter to Daphne as he lost himself in thought. He knew that he had neglected Ron and Hermione, his two old friends, lately, had shut them out, had... lied to them thoroughly. But it had been necessary. With Daphne he could be as he was, but with them... no, they wouldn't understand.
They would try to dissuade him from his chosen path.
They would never join him.
They might even try to stand in his way.
Either way, they would do something. Which would mean that he would have to do something as well.
Something... It sounded so harmless, he thought. But it would be anything but harmless. It had to be. And he couldn't do it. The Death Eaters and Dumbledore, hell, even Shacklebolt and Tonks, they were one thing, but Ron and Hermione, his two old friends?
No, it was as he had said to Daphne when they had first considered possible allies after making the darkest of their pacts – these two deserved better.
But – they'd better be careful if they wanted to keep trying to drive a wedge between him and Daphne. For that was the one thing he could never allow.
He hoped, for their sake, that they would realise that before it was too late.
...
Harry and Daphne received many more letters that day and the next. From McGonagall, who also expressed her relief and congratulated them on their engagement; from Lupin, who was worried but had apparently been told by Dumbledore that he was in contact with them and that all was well; from Mrs Weasley, who – Harry noted with a smirk – invited him and Daphne to the Burrow. And from Hagrid, Flitwick, the twins and Dumbledore, who had sent the promised books and scrolls.
The letter from Rita Skeeter asking for an interview was thrown into the fireplace unanswered.
As the flames consumed the parchment, Harry sat back in his chair, glancing over at Daphne. "So many people want something from us," he muttered.
"They always will," his accomplice replied quietly, her eyes fixed on the flickering embers. "Power, glory, fear – it all draws them in. They'll circle us like vultures until we give them what they want, or until they realise we have no use for them anymore."